Stopping Destiny
by Shamo9
Summary: We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us. This is Leslie Burke's journey... you can't keep your eyes closed forever, especially when all is not what it seems.
1. Adventures

Disclaimer: Not mine...

* * *

Chapter One

Adventures

New and Old

_ I have found adventure in flying, in world travel, in business, and even close at hand... Adventure is a state of mind - and spirit_

_

* * *

_

_Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall_

Leslie awoke with a gasp and tried to sit bolt upright, not quite managing it, she lay back down on her bed, wrapping the covers around her. Her alarm, some David Bowie song, rang out across the room, reverberating against the walls. When Bill had tried to set her alarm he'd gotten it stuck on this particular song. So every morning, without fail, David Bowie woke her up... Leslie would never forgive him. She tried to shield herself against the most wicked creature she had yet encountered: morning.

_I'm not quite right at all... am _

"Five more minutes," Leslie mumbled pleadingly to no one in particular. Unfortunately for her, P.T, her faithful and sometimes just plain annoying dog, held no such mercy.

_Don't set me free, I'm as heavy as can be_

"Honestly, Leslie!" P.T slapped at the alarm, turning it off. "This really isn't befitting of a Queen." His voice, a comical deep bass in his small body, grated on her already frail nerves.

"Leslie!" P.T added in a warning tone, "I'll turn it back on if you don't..."

"I'm not a morning person, you know that," Leslie whined, burying her head under the pillow, hoping he'd leave her in peace. "Dumb dog." Leslie finished whispering, so only she could hear.

"Every morning, Leslie. Must we go through this _every_ morning? Now, if you-" Leslie never figured out what he would say, her mother gently poked her head through the door.

"Do you need some help getting up, sleepy head?" her mother asked softly – it was one of the most patronizing things Leslie had heard in her short life.

"Judy," Leslie fumed, head still buried under the pillows, "I'm perfectly capable of waking myself up – I just... don't choose to."

Judy sighed, this conversation had been becoming more and more frequent in the past year.

"Okay, angel, but it's 10 to 8..."

Leslie sat bolt upright, this time successfully, her eyes wide – her morning brain not fully comprehending. "...What?" Leslie managed.

Judy rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I said, it's 10 to 8 – you're going to be late, agai-"

Leslie's shriek was enough to make Bill drop his pancakes from downstairs in the kitchen.

"Why didn't you wake me, why didn't you wake me, why didn't you wake me," Leslie repeated the mantra as she got changed, her mother retreating downstairs victoriously, muttering something about bottling up emotions being unhealthy that Leslie didn't quite hear. Such was her hurry, Leslie struggled, jumping on one leg, trying to get her left sock on... losing her balance, Leslie toppled into her bookcase.

"Oh, Leslie." P.T groaned, covering his eyes with his paws; re-enacted downstairs by her parents who also heard the dull thud from the kitchen. One of the books nearly landed on her temple, only just missing, it landed neatly on her lap. Thanking whoever cared to listen, Leslie looked at the cover.

It was one of Bill's favourites: The Return of the Soldier, by Rebecca West. She hadn't gotten round to reading it yet, it wasn't a particular favourite genre of hers, but considering the book had been kind enough to spare her head, Leslie put it on her "To-Do list."

She opened the book to the first page, looking to get a head start...

"Leslie, school, now!" P.T swiped the book out of her hands with his teeth.

"You... you could have torn the book!" Leslie gasped, scandalized, thoroughly alarmed and ready to chastise her dog. Seeing P.T's murderous expression... Leslie thought better of it.

"Right, school – sorry..."

Promising to repair her bookcase latter, Leslie was a blur of hectic speed as she pulled on the rest of her "school uniform". Hauling herself out of her room, she whizzed past Bill and Judy before they could respond, picking up a pancake from the kitchen table.

Munching it hurriedly; Leslie made for the door, uh, she spat the horrid thing out. "This tastes awful!" Leslie turned, glaring at Bill.

"Yeah, well, I might have dropped it on the floor – just once, eh, I... think, sorry kid," he laughed weakly, shrugging his shoulders. In too much of a hurry to argue, Leslie simply dropped the pancake, waving at her mother and pointedly ignoring her father; heading from her house to school. Late again, it would seem.

Still, it was unlikely she would learn anything even remotely useful. Another boring day of school dominated by her pragmatic teachers and their tyranny. Honestly, what good would Maths do in helping her save the world? No, she was expected to figure that out for herself. Never mind the fact that she always felt tired, so tired. It was tough being a Queen, even tougher fighting monsters; particularly with no practical experience. She felt like she was being pulled every which way... about to break.

Feeling wretchedly sorry for herself, Leslie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, trying to soothe her perennial headache; blonde hair swaying in the wind.

"Honestly, Leslie. Imagine if the Dark Master could see you now." P.T ran to her side, having gone out the back door to avoid her parents.

"You could have woken me up earlier, but I see you prefer to torment me." She couldn't spot Jess anywhere, so she would just have to make do with P.T... again.

"I did, and I did every morning, Jess doesn't have this problem; fighting you with monsters", P.T bite back. Leslie frowned, picking up something wrong.

"I did, and I do every morning, Jess doesn't have this problem; fighting monsters with you," P.T bite back, again. "You really should consider gaining further assistance, Jess and you – it isn't enough."

_It always had been before._

Bored with the conversation, Leslie's stomach growled pitifully. "I'm hungry."

"Leslie, don't change the con-" But she tried to block him out until they reached school.

* * *

"Hello, Old Barker," Leslie blazed brazenly past the poor old man before he could look up. This old coot held a special place in Leslie's heart, considering he was the one Jess had bought P.T from. Leslie had grown quite fond of him over the years, he was friendly, even for an old coot – his numerous stories and adventures also fascinated Leslie to no end. They were spellbinding; journeys of distant lands, of indomitable heroes and tenacious villains.

She'd dragged Jess and P.T along to his stall quite a few times over the years, wanting desperately to be transported to the past through his soft baritone voice... next stop everywhere. She looked back at his stall... his stall.

Leslie rushed back to Old Barker, thoughts of school forgotten in her alarm.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, this - just packing up. Time to move on – don't worry about it, Leslie... I'm fine. Don't start." He stretched as he spoke, he was obviously sore from lifting his numerous old trinkets. They were neatly stacked in front of him, waiting to be packed in neighbouring cardboard boxes – Old Barker's back gave a satisfying crack. He wiped the perspiration from his brow, waiting for Leslie's inevitable barrage. He'd been hoping to leave as inconspicuously as possible, but Old Barker should have remembered the unique variable: Leslie Burke.

"Moving on? What – how, why?" Leslie was appalled at the notion. "You can't. Jess said you've been here before even _his_ Dad was born, and he's well... old. It's - are you in trouble? I can help you. Is it criminals, are you a criminal, oh, I know, is it because-"

"Wow, easy there now, young girl." He put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "I thank you for your willingness to help – not that I'm surprised - but, it's already been decided."

"By who?" Leslie demanded with slight petulance.

"By who?" Old Barker repeated, smiling grimly. "It's just life, my dear. Everyone has their time, no place in the world left for a humble business like mine. There isn't much left in Lark Creek any more, everyone's moving to the major cities – reminds me of something. Ock, well, no point in sitting here when you are'nie wanted, eh."

"But... I want you."

"Oh, Leslie, Leslie Burke. It means a lot to hear it from you, it really does." He patted her head fondly, winking wolfishly at her in an attempt to raise her spirits.

"Which reminds me, where is that blasted dog – P.T?"

P.T woofed playfully, tail wagging, although Leslie could sense the dog's eyes were still staring daggers through her back. Old Baker was staring at the dog intensely, with a little unease, he relinquished his stare, eyes avoiding the truth.

A thought struck her. "But, what will happen to the other dogs... are you taking them with you?"

Old Barker's shoulders finally slumped and he looked genuinely sombre. "Nothing I can do. I can't afford to keep them. No one wants the poor things, they'll have to go to the doghouse and they don't have much space – so you can imagine what'll happen..."

"That's, no, that's just awful. I – can't let that happen. I'll, I'll ask Judy, she'll know what to do. They're lovely dogs, there's gotta be something, someone." P.T barked in agreement.

"I know how stubborn you are by first hand - I -"

"Do you love them?" Leslie interrupted, eyes stern and unyielding.

"Yes." Old Barker answered with conviction, nothing more needed to be said.

Leslie had made her decision, "That's all I needed to know."

"I won't try and stop you, just... don't get your hopes up... Now off with you, got school, I imagine."

Leslie nodded, only half - listening. Her mind was already swimming through possible scenarios to save the dogs. "How are you transporting all this stuff?"

"Oh, this... A friend of mine, a fortune teller by trade, is helping me."

Leslie's face erupted with glee. "Wow, I've always wanted to have my fortune taken. Is she a women? I imagine she's pretty old, you have to be, likes to wear a veil, perhaps. Wait, Oldie, she isn't your... girlfriend? Oh, that would be fantastic."

Old Barker blushed a bright red. He would never get used to how Leslie doggedly managed to turn a conversation on its head so suddenly and without warning.

"I'm gonna ignore that... She's coming here round about 4, I'll introduce her to you, if you want. School finishes around then, doesn't it?"

"Oh, school." Leslie felt her stomach lurch at the reminder, she had to be really late now.

Leslie sighed, "I'd love to meet her, I'll see you after school... and Old Barker," Leslie turned to face Old Barker as she started moving. " I will save the dogs, I promise." Old Barker merely tipped his hat at Leslie, there was something in his eyes she couldn't read.

"Come on, P.T." A little flustered, P.T had degraded himself to playing with the puppies. He had stated many times to Leslie that he considered himself too sophisticated for such frivolity. Leslie smiled knowingly at him as he tried to gather himself, reluctantly leaving the energetic puppies as they tried to scamper after him.

* * *

"Late again, Leslie. Tisk, tisk, I might have to report you one of these days." Wonda Kay was as snotty as ever it seemed. Leslie was currently in the narrow school corridor, on the way to class.

Leslie stared back at Wonda curiously. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in class, as well?"

Wonda was leaning on the wall, arms folded, eyes closed lazily. She seemed to be trying to emit an image of "coolness", she was trying too hard, at least to Leslie. She suspected the girl was compensating for something.

"Well, that is just none of your business... but being the number one pupil as I am, I will difulge." In English, it basically meant Wanda Kay could never resist an opportunity to brag.

"Divulge"

"Sorry?"

"You mean divulge"

"I know what I mean!" Wanda Kay snapped, a little too loudly for even her own comfort. When the echo died, Wonda held her head primly once more. "Being class representative is both a blessing and a curse. Of course, no one else in our class is capable, especially you." She spat the last word with distaste, as if it was rotten. Leslie smiled pleasantly, she had only gotten that position by default, no one else had been willing to suck up to Myers.

"Apparently, the principle is preparing an announcement – something about not enough funding for a new school" Wonda revelled in her self-importance, Leslie blinked, naive to it all... or at least looking like it. Wonda huffed dramatically, enjoying the attention.

Leslie scratched her head. "Really, I thought that was set in stone. Do you know why?" Leslie could imagine Jess' reaction.

"Not yet." Wonda spoke with contempt and a smudge of annoyance, no doubt at being left out of the loop. "The class representatives, that's me, Burke, were in a meeting. I think they're planning an assembly."

"Shouldn't you be going back to class then... we can go together."

Wonda looked a little flustered. "That's none of your business, Burke. I do what I like."

"Ah, an honourable code no doubt. Just remember, idle hands are the devils tools, especially for fuddy duddies like you." Leslie moved her arms to punctuate her words.

"...fuddy duddies?" Wonda repeated, eyes wide, not comprehending.

"I know, don't you just love idioms. Goodbye, Wonda Kay, until next time." Leslie waved theatrically at Wonda, before continuing on her pilgrimage to class through the narrow school corridors.

"Completely bonkers. She must of knocked her brains out in that accident, as well." Wonda glowered at Leslie, trying to build her self esteem back up again. She couldn't shake the nagging question, however, what the hell was an idiom?

* * *

Leslie was late, of course. Half the class tried to slyly stare at her, the other half not so slyly. Myers stopped in mid-sentence, closed the book she was reading from; opened her mouth to condemn the interruption... She noticed it was Leslie, however, and kept quiet. Leslie's shoulders slumped as she closed the door dejectedly, she didn't like to think she was being treated differently to anyone else. Although to be fair, being a Queen, well, it went with the territory.

To call Mrs Myers room a "classroom" sincerely, you would certainly need a liberal definition of the word classroom. It resembled a dungeon more than anything else. Being stuck in a basement for a half a day with no windows would be a test of wills for even the staunchest hermit.

The walls were a sickening yellow, which contrasted terrible with the otherwise darkened room. The lights occasionally flickered in and out of existence, which grew incredible irritating as the hours crept by. Drawings and other artistic works had been stapled onto the walls to give, what Myers liked to call, "a more pleasant working environment for minds to expand."

Leslie wasn't sure about the pleasant working environment, but mind expanding sounded painful. She grimaced as she walked past what seemed to a picture of an... elephant? Whoever had drawn that was certainly no, Jess Aarons.

When thirty one pupils were seated it became very difficult to manoeuvre around the class. Leslie struggled to get in between tables to make it to her seat at the back of the class, she had been moved there last year. Leslie gave Rodney a nod as she manoeuvred round his desk, it was like a labyrinth in here! Leslie waved to Jess as she passed him, but he was too absorbed by his next masterpiece to notice. Typical Jess, she rolled her eyes, smiling begrudgingly.

Mrs Myers sat down at her desk, looking ominous as usually with her arms folded. She gave Leslie a slight smile filled with a number of emotions that Leslie was too tired to understand. Leslie was the only one Myers ever spared a smile to, much to the rest of the classes' chagrin.

As Myers began talking again, Leslie grew bored and fast. It wasn't that she didn't want to pay attention, but the walls of the classroom seemed to be draining energy from her. She tried to keep alert and at least look like she was paying attention – she failed.

Her eyelids felt so heavy, maybe if she just... Myers was lecturing them on... well, Leslie couldn't catch it as she rested her head on her desk. She tried to suppress a moan; her head felt like it was being trampled on by that sorry excuse of an elephant from the picture. She was sure she spotted Jess twitching... but he didn't turn around. If she titled her head slightly to the left and leaned on her books, yes, just there; Leslie fell into an uneasy slumber.

"Leslie, Leslie."

She awoke from her slumber at the gentle coaxing of Jess, he seemed reluctant to actually physically touch her, at least that was what Leslie perceived from his hesitation.

"Hhhmm?" Leslie began flexing her neck which had become incredibly stiff. It was unusually for Jess to talk during class, Myers certainly held no love for him.

"It's lunch," Jess said, pointing to his paper bag - his lunch box had meet a grizzly fate at the hands of Brenda a few months ago.

Leslie perked up at the news, looking around, sure enough, everyone else was digging into their lunch and chatting happily. Leslie smiled, greedily taking out her own lunch.

"... You were late again, Leslie."

She looked up at his solemn tone, her own mouth stuffed to the brink with her sandwich, Jess seemed to be staring right through her. Noticing her concerned expression, Jess added grinning, "Gosh, what do you do in the morning, wash P.T, polish your wheels?"

Leslie poked her tongue out at Jess playfully, before taking another bite into her tuna and sweetcorn sandwich. She was pleased to note that it tasted infinitely better that Bill's pancakes – not that it was particularly difficult!

"Hey, Leslie..." Jess tried unsteadily

"Mmmmmm?" Her mouth was a little busy with her sandwich.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmmm, hhmmmm, Jhhmmm." Leslie nodded her head vigorously. She coughed, almost choking on the sandwich.

Jess raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, dumb question."

The rest of lunch passed by excruciatingly slowly, something that seemed synonymous with Lark Creek Elementary in general. Sure, lunch was satisfying enough, but after the actually food was digested, it became tedious. Leslie looked up at the door to leave the class longingly. Wait, who was that at the door? She'd never seen her before.

Leslie leaned forward to whisper to Jess. "Jess, psst, earth to Jess!"

He slurped loudly on his milk, nearly choking. "Wh- at?" he said through fits of coughing, much like Leslie earlier.

"Do you know who that girl is, over by the door. Look you'll miss her!"

Jess turned reluctantly around, his face falling as he shrugged, avoiding Leslie's eyes. "Dunno, can I eat my lunch now? Not everyone eats like a fish." He looked pointedly in her direction.

Leslie rolled her eyes but acquiesced, deciding her time would be better spent figuring out the best way to deal with the Dark Master and his Kingdom... once and for all. Oh, and not forgetting Old Barker's puppies. Life was never easy for the Queen of Terabithia. The girl left soon after, and Leslie let herself forget about it for the time being.

* * *

The principle had declared a surprise assembly shortly after lunch, mirroring Wonda's prediction. Myers was muttering again, this time about "lack of respect for elders"; they reached the adjoining P.E hall. 1st to 7th years were forced to sit on the floor, still segregated in their classes, 8th years were allowed the privilege of sitting each side of the 1st to 7th years on benches. Not feeling well, Leslie excused herself to go to the bathroom.

The halls were especially crowded, it seemed the whole school, staff included, were making their way to the hall. She kept her head down, trying to smother her nausea, walking gingerly – trying not to fall. She'd been called clumsy in the past by her classmates, while it didn't really bother her, she still didn't want to reinforce the sentiment unnecessarily.

A boy dropped his school bag in front of her. Leslie noticed something on his face, she reached over to help him but he pushed her hands away snappishly.

"Get away from me, I don't need-" But the rest of his tirade was lost in the hubbub of the pupils making their way to the hall, he had obviously ran in the opposite direction.

"Manners don't cost anything." Leslie mumbled under her breath, hands in her pockets, thoroughly offended. Leslie made it to the toilets without any further hiccups. She washed her face vigorously, hoping it would drown her headache.

Nursing her head in her hands, Leslie looked at her reflection in the mirror above: she looked like hell. Closing her eyes, Leslie revelled in the silence of the toilets, about the only quiet you were liable to find in Lark Creek Elementary.

With Myers' class residing in the basement, they would often hear the ceiling protest with the constant thumping of footsteps from above. Leslie and Jess had become talented in working out what person belonged to each different set of footsteps.

The Janitor's were always hurriedly, he was obviously a busy man. The Principle had a bad habit of pacing in his office, which was directly above the class, if Leslie's angles were correct. It was fun to follow someone's journey around the school... if she wasn't already asleep, of course.

Feeling slightly rejuvenated, Leslie searched the adjoining bag for paper towels, it was empty, surprise surprise.

"Bloody school!" Leslie cursed before pausing in embarrassment... she'd been spending too much time around Jesse' father!

Wiping her hands surreptitiously on her top, Leslie heard a muffled squeak from a nearby cubicle. For a horrible second, Leslie had mistaken it for a mouse but no, it was definitely human. Deja vu ran through Leslie, it couldn't be...

"Janice?" Leslie tried, walking slowly towards the cubicle. The crying stopped suddenly, it had sounded like Janice, well, without the cussing and infrequent threats of bodily harm at least.

Having dealt with this situation before, Leslie tapped on the door, non threateningly.

"Janice, is th-" Leslie was interrupted by the bathroom door swinging open, nearly toppling her over.

"Ouch!"A girl came flying out the cubicle, running as fast as Leslie had ever seen anyone run in her life. Leslie blinked dumbly as the girl ran for the door sobbing, "Leave me alone!"

"What is up with everyone today?!" Leslie yelled after the retreating girl, rubbing her sore backside. And just when her headache had been getting better, as well! Leslie was even beginning to hear things in her head. _Great I'm crazy_, she thought, dripping with sarcasm. The noise roared again. No, what a minute, that was coming from...

Something screeched again from the cubicle, hadn't the girl just left? Leslie regained her footing and walked towards the door, hoping against hope that the noise would suddenly disappear. No such luck.

The door swung open, this time nearly off its hinges. Leslie stood face to face with an abomination. Foul breath clouded Leslie's senses, the abomination seemed to be sucking in an indefinable substance from the bathroom, growing substantially bigger.

The creature's figure was shrouded in darkness, a feat that seemed impossible considering the toilet was otherwise well light. It seemed to have its very own aura of rage, anger and pain. Something that had to be seen to be believed, an impossibility.

The only discernible part of the creature was its eyes. Leslie shivered involuntary. White. Only white. They seemed unseeing but Leslie had an unshakable fear that those eyes, those impossible eyes, could see better than any human ever could.

Leslie tried to speak, found that she could barely breath. She felt like she'd been frozen to the spot. Two dots of white in an otherwise sea of darkness that resembled nothing she'd ever seen before... or ever wanted to see. She felt the hairs stand up in the back of her neck, she felt terrible exposed staring at the creature. As if he could see her dreams, her regrets, her triumphs and weaknesses all in one.

_Obviously the work of the Dark Master._

Leslie backed off slightly, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. The scene would have almost been comical, if not for it being so serious. This abomination standing in a shabby, yellowing toilet that held God knows what, love notes and love hearts of teenage girls long since gone decorated the walls.

The thought was enough to give her the necessary courage to talk, she was a Queen after all.

"Oh, yeah. This... is awkward, this is really, really awkward. I'm sorry for interrupting." Leslie motioned to close the door. The creature's aura moved forward, away from the toilet. Despite it being impossible to tell, Leslie had a feeling this abomination had no interest in her. It seemed to be looking for something else... The girl, perhaps? That gave Leslie an idea.

"'pose we can't discuss this, civilly?"

If the creature had the capacity to laugh, it would certainly have now. It screeched again, this time carrying a message – the end is near. Before the creature could gain further distance, Leslie slammed the door unexpectedly into the aura of the abomination. While Leslie felt no resistance, she could hear the shriek of irritation. Trying to slam the door again, she found that she couldn't move it. Straining with all her weight, no, it wouldn't budge. The door suddenly fell from its hinges and began to dissipate in the darkness causing Leslie to let go.

"Fine, keep it if you want!" Not waiting for its approval, Leslie ran from the toilet, never looking back. To dislodge the door, the abomination must have had to revert to its atomic state. In a weakened state, the abomination would most likely retreat back to the Dark Kingdom for reinforcements.

While she had never encountered this creature before, her past experience with the Dark Master's minions led her to this conclusion. In other words, it was an educated guess.

A more pressing question worried Leslie, what on Earth was it doing here in the first place, on its own no less! That wasn't even considering the girl, had she just been in the wrong place, no, Leslie rejected that theory. In her life there was no such thing as coincidence. So many questions. Leslie found she couldn't stop shaking, the creature... it was just wrong.

From what P.T had gathered from his past spying missions in the Dark Kingdom. The Dark Master's minions travelled in packs, always hoping to simply devour stragglers. So why had one wandered off on its own, so far from home? Leslie knew the answer, but didn't dare think it. They were getting stronger... Leslie increased her pace, trying to put as much distance between her and the toilets as possible.

Leslie eventually stopped when she couldn't go on any longer without air. Hands on her knees; Leslie bent over, her breathing laboured. No matter what. She had to find the girl – before it did.

* * *

_It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves - in finding themselves_


	2. Friends

Chapter Two

Friends

_Without friends no one would choose to live, though they had all other goods_

* * *

Leslie breathed in the fresh air contently as she reached the great outdoors. Feeling slightly melancholy, she had decided the best remedy was fresh air, the tight school corridors had been becoming oppressive. It was humid and the sky was a deep blue, most usual for Lark Creek. Still, sometimes it took a near death encounter with one of the Dark Master's minions in a shabby cubicle to make one fully appreciate the serenity of it all.

Leslie was dismayed to find that the school body had exited the assembly hall and were now running riot in the playground. So much for serenity, she thought disparagingly over the chippering of the first graders, how would she ever find the girl in this chaos?

Walking round the outskirts of the playground aimlessly for a while, the word jungle came to mind. Leslie finally spotted some friendly faces, Jess and Rodney in a heated discussion by the bins, maybe they could help? From what she could see, Rodney seemed to be lecturing Jess while he squirmed and gave short, meek replies.

"Jess, Rod!" Leslie shouted. They immediately broke from their conversation, a little too hurriedly to look anything but suspicious.

"Les," Jess was the first to speak, smiling and waving her over.

Leslie poked his chest accusingly. "Jess, please stop butchering my name... Long time, no see, Rod. " Leslie gave him an exaggerated wave.

Rodney grinned at Leslie, he seemed to remember something, however, and his grin faltered. "Sorry, guys. Gotta run, guitar lesson. See ya, Leslie." He turned deliberately to his right, voice growing hard, "Jess."

"What was that about?" Leslie asked as Rodney ran off. Jess didn't answer immediately, his eyes followed Rodney with an unreadable expression on his face. When confident that Rodney was out of earshot, he replied.

"It was nothing, you know how Rodney can get worked up over things."

"Yeah..." Leslie agreed with little conviction. They stayed silent for a while, in contrast to the wails of a 3rd grade girl who'd suffered the wrath of a football to the face. It was very awkward, most unusually for them.

" Leslie, erm, I have... eh, you missed assembly again, are you feeling okay?" Jess' expression was terrible conflicted. He seemed to be trying to say something, but not quite managing it. He looked disappointed in himself; he finished deflated.

"Gosh, Jess, you're worse than my mother." Leslie smirked, breaking the tension.

"Hey, I'm not that... okay, maybe I am, but only a little!" Jess amended, a result of the knowing grin Leslie gave him.

"So, what was assembly about?" Leslie asked, despite already knowing. Jess was not one to instigate a conversation in this mood.

Jess kicked his heels with frustration, there seemed to be something very interesting on his shoes because he was staring at them, mesmerized.

"We've not been given the money for a new school... went to some casino or something..."

Leslie knew it was better not to answer. Jess took a great deal of pride and self placed responsibility for Lark Creek. Whenever something akin to this happened, Jess took it hard, like it was somehow his fault. He'd always tried to show her the good in Lark Creek, always adamant that they were good people. For this to happen... well, it was the equivalent to a slap in the face for Jess – all his efforts in-vain.

Leslie went to his side, holding his hand reassuringly, forcing him to look up into her eyes. "It'll be alright... remember what you always say about Lark Creek... Come on, say it!" She nudged him encouragingly when he didn't respond immediately.

"Lark Creek is a stubborn old poop. No matter how many times you try and flush it... it always floats back to the top." A grin grew larger on his face after every word, he recited it formally before breaking into chuckles, "I remember when my Mum heard me say that to May Belle – her face – she thought I was crazy."

"Insanity: a perfectly rational adjustment to the insane world." Leslie mused, patting his head mockingly, she gasped, " Just imagine, Jess... Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must have. Lucky for me..."

"Nah, you're not crazy."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She gave him a mock salute.

Her efforts at trying to cheer him up appeared to be successful, but Leslie knew from the way he held his head; Jess was still hurting. If there was only one thing she really knew about Jess... it was he would never consciously give up on those he cared about. His determination to improve Lark Creek was like the Olympic flame; it would never fade.

Leslie idly wondered where she came in Jess' "care-o-meter". _What do I care about, really_, she asked herself, staring off into the distance, deep in contemplation.

Suddenly, the thought of "caring" reminded her of why she was here. "... Hey, Jess, you haven't seen that girl again, have you?"

Jess looked at her befuddled. "Girl - that's a bit vague, Leslie."

Leslie pouted, seeing her predicament, she had no idea what the girl's name was, and she hadn't really been able to get a good look at her.

"The one that was in our class this morning, black hair, I think. " Leslie grabbed desperately for something indiscernible, what had she been wearing? Letting her mind wander, she looked around the playground. It was a sea of pupils, all crowded together. The older years leaning on the walls trying to look tough, the middle years crowded together in compact little circles discussing anything from make up to who stepped on dog turd. The youngsters ran wildly across the dichotomy of life, playing numerous games that were almost always ended prematurely when one bumped into a much bigger and stronger 7th year in a bad mood.

When anyone managed to sit quietly on their own... It wasn't only peculiar, but a serious achievement in itself. That was exactly what she saw. A girl sitting behind some bushes, back to the world. It was her, Leslie just knew it.

"Leslie... this isn't easy, but there's something I- _we_ need to talk abo -"

"Never mind, Jess." Leslie crept over to the bushes, making sure not to bump into the running 1st years. She wasn't sure why, but Leslie felt the need to approach slowly, almost cautiously, as if she was a predator and this girl, her prey, was capable of running off at even the slightest disturbance. She heard Jess calling something out to her, but Leslie's mind was already set.

It was difficult to manoeuvre into the bushes, this was a place you only went to hide. Leslie had a fairly good idea what the girl was hiding from. She was sitting cross legged, back leaning on the trunk of a tree that had been planted by an old 5th year class long ago. The girl seemed engrossed in her laptop, fingers tapping away furiously, but still strangely silent. It wasn't a sight one usually saw in Lark Creek, only a select few, herself included, could afford such a piece of equipment.

The girl's black hair was neatly cut and conservative, but had odd streaks of blue which seemed to Leslie like a subdued statement of rebellion. It was a strange juxtaposition, overall. A muffin sat beside her, and she would sporadically take small delicate bites as if she were trying to savour it forever.

It was all a far cry from the timid girl Leslie had noticed this morning, she seemed more relaxed, at ease with the world. It made her seem quite pretty, Leslie decided.

"Hey," Leslie spoke softly, so as not to break the calm, "what are you doing out here on your on?"

Startled, the girl nearly dropped her laptop. She stared blankly at Leslie without really looking at her, her eyes were blue, much like Leslie's. Her eyes became downcast and she went back to her laptop without so much as a word. Leslie was about to repeat her question when the girl said concisely, "Yes?"

Leslie frowned. "I said, why are you sitting out here on your own?"

The girl stared again at Leslie, this time like Leslie was crazy to ask such a question, Leslie grew uncomfortable, but shook it off.

"Take a picture," the stare became one of confusion, "it'll last longer."

The girl's face became dejected, she closed her laptop with authority. "If you're here to make fun of me..."

"Why would people make fun of you... because you eat muffins?" Leslie tried, genuinely curious. She had received her fair share of abuse over the years; it wasn't a nice experience.

The girl turned and looked over her shoulder. She couldn't see the crowd of students watching Leslie curiously, watching what she was doing, giggling, because the bush was in the way. Leslie didn't care much if they laughed; becoming friends with people was something she did well, and it was something she enjoyed proving she could indeed do.

Continuing the decidedly one sided conversation, "Do you, I mean, why are you worried about them?"

The girl suddenly became animated, her expression changed to amazement. Her mouth opened a couple of times before closing jarringly. She finally uncoiled. "Doesn't it bother you... I mean it has to, doesn't it?"

"Why would it bother me?"

"I mean, well...they have... friends, and-"

"It doesn't bother me." Leslie said determinedly, jaw line set, she looked the girl right in the eyes. "My name's Leslie, Leslie Burke; what's yours?"

Yes, her expression was definitely amazement. She repeated the performance of opening her mouth and then closing it, Leslie waited patiently.

"My name is... A-Alexis."

"Alexis," Leslie repeated.

"It was my Grandmothers, my Mother choose it," she added hastily, getting the impression that Leslie was "underwhelmed" by the name. She offered her hand hesitantly, shaking slightly. Alexis looked so fragile at that moment, as if she had offered herself up completely, and any comment might break her completely. The power made Leslie dizzy. Leslie took her hand and shook it vigorously, very pleased. It was a little more formal than what she was used to, but she had learned basic etiquette from Bill's many book signings.

"I think it's a lovely name A...lex...is," Leslie mouthed the words, as if trying it out before reaching a conclusion. "Yes, Alexis, definitely sounds like a good name to me. Much better than Leslie or Rodney for that matter. Just don't tell him I said that!" Leslie warned with mock-horror. A giggle escaped Alexis' mouth before she could stop it, Leslie smiled victoriously.

Leslie sat down beside Alexis, keeping a hold of her hand, not really caring if she got a little dirty. "I think we should be friends, don't you?" Leslie was nothing if not direct.

"I dunno..."

Leslie looked at her alarmed. "Why not, was it something I did?"

"No, nothing like that. I just, I just don't think your other friends would... understand – me."

Leslie stopped for a moment, deep in consternation. "Do you mean, Jess. Do you know him?"

"No, I don't know him. He doesn't know me. That's the problem. He might not understand," she repeated robotically.

Leslie brushed it off quickly. "Jess, is harmless. Don't worry about that... just don't interrupt him when he's drawing, he'll bite your head off! Anyway, other than him, no one else matters."

"Are you sure?" Alexis seemed desperate to make sure Leslie was certain. Like this was a signing of a contract and the contractor was giving emphasis to an "escape clause".

"I said I wanted to be your friend. I'm sure," Leslie spoke confidently, with an underlying stubborn countenance. Alexis slowly nodded her head.

Laughing happily now it was resolved, Leslie let go of Alexis' hand and pointed curiously at the laptop.

"What are you doing? Certainly looked like you were busy at something, Nice laptop by the way, very sleek. 'Magine you're pretty smart, carrying one of those around."

Alexis was a bit startled by this strange girl, Leslie Burke. She could certainly... talk. Still, her bubbly enthusiasm was infectious and Alexis found herself smiling as she explained.

"I'm working on my dissertation for the 'Aim Higher' club."

"What's it on?"

"Well... I'll read some of it, if you want of course, you might find it boring," she hesitated, unsure.

"Go ahead," Leslie urged.

"Ok-ay, then. 'Focal injuries are those that occur in a specific location in the brain. These localized injuries are often associated with symptoms corresponding to the part of the brain that was injured, for example manifesting in hemiparesis or other focal neurological deficits. Types of focal brain injury include intracranial hemorrhage, heavy bleeding in the skull that is not mixed with tissue, and bruising of brain tissue called a contusion. In a brain contusion, injured brain tissue is mixed with blood that has leaked from damaged blood , due to rupture of a blood vessel in the head, can be extra-axial, or intra-axial. Extra-axial hemorrhages can be further divided into subdural hematoma, epidural hematoma, and subarachnoid hemorrhage. An epidural hematoma involves bleeding into the area between the skull and the heavy, outermost membrane that surrounds the brain, the dura mater.'"

"Phew, guess I was wrong about you being smart – you're a genius!"

Alexis blushed profusely, stammering."It is one of the more difficult subjects, but... it is one of my favourites, and that is what matters in the end."

Leslie nodded in assent, she stopped when Alexis took another bite out of her muffin. The scrumptious, delicious and incomparable chocolate that coated the outer reaches. Leslie looked longingly at the delectable delight, lips salivating at the prospect. Aware of Leslie's attention, Alexis put down the muffin, wiping her mouth.

"I've got another one in my bag if you want..." Alexis was cut off by Leslie smothering her in a hug.

"Alexis, I love you already!"

Alexis patted Leslie's back awkwardly. _This girl was certainly a little peculiar_, Alexis thought. It was wonderful.

They chatted merrily for the rest of break, Leslie happily destroying her muffin with a gusto. Leslie's mood was slightly dampened, however, by the discovery of a strange book in her bag. Leslie had originally just looked into her bag when she had discovered that she'd left it open to her enormous embarrassment. The cover of the book read: Diary of Richard Murdoch.

A boy. Where could this have come from? She retraced her footsteps of the day. A memory of bumping into a boy on the way to the bathroom flashed before her eyes. The book could have fallen into her bag when they had collided. Leslie rubbed her chin, should she open it? The curiosity killed her.

"Is that your diary?" Alexis looked up from her work and bent over curiously. Leslie quickly shielded it from view, not sure why. Alexis instantly realized her social faux pas. "Of course, I'm sorry. It's private." She retreated back to her work.

_Into her shell._

Leslie instantly felt regret at brushing her off. Still, deciding if she'd went this far, she might as well have a peak at the first page... Just so she might have a better chance at finding Richard to return it to him, of course.

_Kill Derek. Kill Derek. Kill Derek. Kill Derek_. Leslie stifled a gasp. The same name, written aggressively over the first page, covering every inch. What was worse, the ink he had used was red. Instant connotations of blood and violence flew into Leslie's mind. Why was this so unsettling? It was only a page, he had probably just been doodling. Leslie confidently turned the page, needing the reassurance.

_Kill Derek. Kill Derek. Kill Derek. Kill Derek_. Exactly the same, down to every last swish of ink and dotted ''I'. She turned the page again. Same result. Again and again, always the same, it was too precise, too calculated. Leslie wanted to throw the book away. It was dirty, filthy – she should never have opened it. Leslie skipped to the last page.

Two words, in the centre, this time written in black: _I'm sorry. _

Leslie closed the book on impulse and threw it back in her bag. She then instinctively moved further away from the bag, as if it would bite her. It felt like an infectious disease had been spread from the book into her body. A tumour that was now steadily growing - unstoppable. The words echoed in her head. Leslie shivered involuntary, wrapping her arms protectively around her. The sky suddenly didn't seem so bright.

"That's what I do... when I get scared."

Leslie blinked, breaking out of her daze. "W-what?"

Alexis closed her eyes, remembering. "Whenever I feel sad, or alone, I just wrap my arms around me... and pretend. Pretend that no one can hurt me, and... that I'm not alone." Alexis' face remained stoic as she spoke, her eyes far off...

"You're not alone." Leslie's eyes remained fixed on the sky. Alexis stared at her in awe, she struggled for words,

"...Thanks, for... -"

"Yeah," Leslie answered for Alexis. No more words needed to be said between them, that moment, sitting under the trees... it was theirs. Leslie's eyes never left the sky as Alexis began diligently typing once more. The sky suddenly seemed bright again.

Leslie followed a cloud on its tranquil journey across the blue sea. At that moment, Leslie had a sudden urge to become a cloud. It had to be so peaceful, just floating around, at your own pace, no irritating distractions, no reprimands or disappointments or even pain. It was freedom. Freedom of the highest form... quite literally.

She closed her eyes and sighed contently. She could have easily fallen asleep there, quite contently, floating in the air.

"Alexis... would you like to be a cloud?"

"Sorry?"

Leslie's eyes remained closed but she could hear the confusion.

"Never-mind, what would you like to be... when you're older, any dreams? There is plenty space in the sky if you want to float with me. "

Leslie opened her eyes to watch Alexis' response. She had a faraway look in her eye, whatever it was, it was bringing a smile to face.

"I've... always wanted to be a doctor. My father studies in Germany, it sort of runs in the family, I guess. "

"Germany's quite a distance," Leslie dead-panned.

Alexis was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Yeah... it is."

Leslie didn't catch the masked sorrow, clouds didn't catch most things. She stretched like a cat. "I think you'll make a great doctor."

"Really?" Alexis asked hopefully.

"Yeah, of course. You've got the look," Leslie mulled Alexis over, eyes frowning comically, making Alexis laugh.

Leslie sat up, impersonating a stern, pretentious and stuck up examiner. "So... why do you want to be a doctor?"

Alexis blushed, stumbling, playing the part of a nervous young student in an interview to perfection. "Well, I dunno, I guess I've always wanted to save lives, even if I could only save one, I'd be happy, " she said the last part seriously.

"You're hired," Leslie exclaimed before lying back down on the grass. "Just don't forget us clouds in Germany, okay?" Leslie joked.

"I don't think I could ever forget you." Alexis wasn't joking. She began typing deftly in her laptop while Leslie kept her cloud company. Freedom.

Unfortunately all good things come to an end. The bell rang mockingly; the playground erupted into groans of joy disrupted cruelly. Leslie and Alexis separated to get to their individual class, Leslie promising that Jess and her would walk Alexis home. Just before they parted, Leslie asked out of the blue, "You wouldn't know a good place to store 20 puppies, would you?"

* * *

Leslie awoke thanks to the school bell. It took her a while to shake off her tiredness, she ended up being the last one to leave the class. She was a little hurt to find that Jess hadn't waited for her, and Alexis had failed to arrive at their supposed meeting point. Something had obviously come up. It was the only explanation Leslie could deduce. Well, there was another... but she didn't have the heart to contemplate it.

Keeping her head downward, Leslie started the long journey home. One that seemed considerable longer on her own. With nothing but her thoughts to keep her -

"Leslie!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin, although she couldn't see where the voice was coming from, she was in no doubt as in to who it belonged to.

"P.T , where – if you were caught talking..."

"By the bushes." P.T was obviously not in the mood for fanfare. Leslie knelt down, stray twigs digging into her knees.

"What's gotten into you, P.T?"

P.T looked terrible agitated. He was shivering despite the warmth of the day. His eyes were wide and haunted. He looked at Leslie grim but focused.

"I was sitting here, waiting for you to come out of school, you take your time by the way! The last one in the whole-"

"P.T!" Leslie warned, tired of his critical analysis – what was he, an English teacher?

"Anyway, I was sitting here waiting for you to come out-"

"I got that bit!" Leslie said, frustrated at P.T and his exposition.

"... And I saw this girl waiting by this tree, she was attacked by this strange boy, who dragged her back into the school..."

"What!"

"Leslie, there's another thing, about the boy, there was something... odd about him. I think, I think it's The Dark Master, I think he's coming... here."

"Impossible, you know he can't leave Terabithia, only his-"

"Well, obviously things have changed!" P.T began running, urging Leslie to follow. "We have no time. I think they've been hunting this girl for sometime."

"Alexis," Leslie whispered in horror. Internally, she cursed her own stupidity. _I was too careless_, she thought bitterly.

Leslie reprimanded herself for forgetting to mention about the monster. The girl obviously wouldn't have brought it up, she probably thought she was seeing things, or that she was insane. If Alexis got hurt because of her stupidity... Leslie didn't dare think it!

"You know her?" P.T inquired.

"Yes." Leslie nodded gravely, she had to be okay, she just had to!

"There was another girl with her, I think. The teachers are currently in a meeting, still in the school." P.T paused, apparently the ramifications of the situation had finally dawned on him.

"Jess?" Leslie inquired hopefully.

"The bus already went." P.T cursed through his teeth, grinning but devoid of humour. "I guess, it's up to us."

Leslie agreed, fully prepared. Her friend was in danger, there was nothing else for it.

"Leslie, are you ready for this. There's a chance... a chance..."

"I'm ready." Nothing else needed to be said. They knew.


	3. Trials

Chapter Three

Trials

_You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty_

* * *

"Leslie, what are you doing still in school?"

Leslie stopped abruptly, trying to look nonchalant. P.T had been leading her through the labyrinth of narrow corridors that Lark Creek Elementary possessed before the current interruption.

"Oh, monster – I mean, Mrs Myers, I'm, well, just eh-"

"Shouldn't you be working on your homework for tomorrow?"

"...Homework," Leslie gasped, instinctively appalled. "... Oh, yeah that... homework," she eventually supplied, but her eyes betrayed her.

Mrs Myers shook her head, seeming to have long since conceded the battle with Leslie's impudence. Leslie noticed she was carrying flowers.

"Miss, erm, shouldn't you be... in a meeting?" Leslie was really in a hurry, but that indefatigable curiosity was both a blessing and a curse.

"It's Adam's birthday."

"Oh... I, oh." Leslie didn't know what to say, what could she say? She was lost for words, a rare sight indeed.

Adam was Myers' long since deceased husband. She never celebrated his death as other families tended to do, the pain was still too fresh for that; a scar that while healing, would bleed if pressed on. It was always his birthday she commemorated; celebrating his life. Every year, without fail, she would place flowers down beside his grave... and reminisce. Unfortunately, when you reached Mrs Myers' age, the list of people to reminisce with grows thin.

For the last two years, Leslie had dutifully accompanied Mrs Myers to the graveyard. Myers had originally been uncomfortable with the idea, Leslie had actually been in detention, for completely unjust reasons of course, when she had noticed Myers looking particularly melancholy. After a bit of coaxing, Leslie had discovered that Myers had been forced to take the detention as a result of a shortage of staff, she wouldn't get to chat to her husband.

Furious, Leslie had stormed out of the detention room, forcing Myers to follow. Myers had threatened Leslie with expulsion, but she had merely pointed tenaciously at Myers' car – silently signalling her intent. They had spent 3 hours at the tombstone, Myers merrily recalling 29 glorious years of marriage, Leslie, the perfect listener.

Last year, Leslie had made a poem for her teacher... Myers had placed it on the tombstone along with the flowers.

"I'm sorry." Leslie's head was down, a trickle of shame washed through her. _How could she have forgotten?_

"Don't be foolish... Miss B- Leslie, look at me," there was an authority in her voice that only a teacher could create, but there was something gentle in her delivery, as if Leslie would break if she were too loud. Leslie reluctantly lifted her head. The wall of discipline had been removed.

Myers' voice was softer than Leslie had ever heard. "I know this has been a terrible difficult year for you... It has been for me, as well, having to watch." Myers eyes watered, but she wiped them and smiled flippantly, the 'Leslie Burke Special'.

"I just want you to know that... well, I don't get students like you often, in fact, I've never had one quite like you before." Myers was openly weeping now, but they were happy tears.

Myers had a sort of half smile on her face, the one people gave in a moment of clarity. "Adam... would've loved you, as I have."

She gripped Leslie's shoulder firmly, the only physical contact she'd ever given a pupil.

"Now go and be that wonderful child one more time, while you still can." Myers tucked her flowers under her shoulder and turned to leave, the teacher's façade now firmly in place. Leslie was at a loss for words, she stared at the flowers, white chrysanthemums, and what they represented.

"Mrs... Myers," Leslie called as Myers walked down the corridor, "they look beautiful."

Mrs Myers turned to thank Leslie Burke, but she was gone.

* * *

"Is this it?" Leslie turned to P.T for confirmation, he nodded. They were in the staff corridor, the commotion seemed to be coming from the principal's waiting room. Leslie peeked through a nearby window, hushing P.T, investigating the area. She recalled waiting here on her first day at Lark Creek, filled with a nervous anticipation that was quelled by Judy's fussing. She had been sitting right... there.

Her eyes instantly met the figure of a boy, about her age. Leslie frowned, eyes trying to absorb every detail like a microscope. It was a torrid, fruitless task. This person just had no discernible features. He was ordinary. Average. If this boy ever happened to find himself labelled as a suspected criminal; hung out to dry in a rigid line along with other "suspects". Boy, Leslie certainly wouldn't envy the victim in their thankless task of identifying him.

Leslie still had a sickeningly feeling that she'd encountered this boy before, briefly.

"He's the boy you bumped into today."

"P.T, how do you-"

"It was obvious." P.T didn't elaborate. _Dumb dog_. She took a closer look, not really believing him.

Wait, could he? Yes, yes it was. Richard. Images of diaries and blood reverberated in her mind, but she shook it off angrily. Leslie's eyes looked frantically around for Alexis. _There she is_, Leslie thought relieved. Her relief turned to dismay, Alexis was holding her head, a slight incarceration to the temple. Obviously the victim of an attack.

Leslie's eyes lit up with anger at the thought. P.T stopped in front of her, halting her rescue attempt.

"P.T, get out of my way, now!"

"LESLIE, stop! Think about what you're proposing. We can't just ran straight in there with no semblance of a plan. Use your head," he whispered harshly.

"It's only a boy from school. I can handle him."

"No, that's not it, Leslie. You know there's something more. Look at him properly!" P.T pleaded.

Reluctantly, she returned her attention to the boy. Sure enough, there was something about him that seemed... off. The air seemed to thicken around him, as if his immediate surroundings were trembling before him; every element in this world desperate to create distance between them and... it. Leslie remembered vividly feeling a similar sensation earlier today. His eyes. White.

Leslie's shoulders slumped, lowering her head from the window. _I hate this kid_, she thought spontaneously.

"We must wait. Listen, find out their purpose," P.T continued, sensing Leslie's resolve was fading.

Leslie's jaw contracted; she tried to hold her tongue, it was painful.

"I know it's hard," P.T said, as if he was reading her thoughts, Leslie wouldn't put it past him, "but we're no good to her if we get captured, as well."

So they sat there, helpless and afraid. It was almost as if they were watching an action film... except there would be no superhero to rush in at the last moment to save the damsel in distress, there was only her and P.T. It was down to them, and it wasn't fun, it wasn't glamorous. Nothing was fun about watching your friend in danger, while you yourself were powerless, observing like a cowering child. Leslie's hands bailed into fists, they went white with the pressure. They listened.

"How... long?"

Leslie couldn't trace the source of the voice, it must have been coming from one of the corners of the waiting room.. at least she prayed it was coming from the room.

"It is ready?" the same detached unnerving voice. The source of the voice stepped out of the shadows, he looked a lot older than the boy, possible in his 30's.

The boy seemed to be absorbed by something on the wall, Leslie couldn't see past him to find out what was so fascinating. His arm moved swiftly in the shape of a triangle. The boy turned to Alexis, obviously signalling for her to lead. Leslie heard a loud knocking from the principal's office, she almost blushed at the curses emanating from the door, was that... Wonda Kay?

"Where are you taking me?" Alexis interrupted, unmoving. Leslie could here the quaver in her voice. The boy didn't respond.

"I have a right to know," Alexis demanded relentlessly. She was as far away from the boy as possible. Holding on to the wall; whether because the head knock had left her disoriented, or in preparation of a last ditch plan to hold on for dear life. _That's it_, Leslie thought jubilantly. Get him talking.

"...I am your future," the boy smirked cryptically. The sound of the voice was slimy and dead to Leslie's ears, it's very tone so oiled and greased that persuasion wasn't a strong enough word to describe its effect on one's mind. The voice, Leslie desperately wanted to look away, but the voice; she felt like she was bait, bait that was being reeled back in with a hook, back to its master, pulled to shore with the captured meat, ready to be devoured by both sides. She _really_ wanted to look away.

"What.. what does that mean?" Alexis couldn't hide the disgust in her voice. But no, the disgust wasn't for the voice. The voice was merely a side show for the demonic white eyes that seemed to see through everything, every defence, every weakness, every doubt, every shame. The eyes seemed to be able cut down anyone that looked through them. To make them look within themselves... and find only self loathing.

"I wouldn't expect a sub human to understand," the older man growled contemptuously, even though he shared a similarly confused expression, "now move!"

"You don't have to do this. I – I won't tell anyone if you please... just let me go," Alexis said in an attempt at a reassuring tone. The older man threw it back in her face.

"You don't have to do this," he mimicked patronizingly. "Sub-humans," he sniffed derisively, "You've devolved over the years. Ignorant and weak, with no possible understanding of the-"

"Then help me understand!" Alexis pleaded, enunciating the last word, retaining her hold on the wall, as if without it she would plunge into darkness.

This seemed to enrage the older man, "Help you, after all the pain your species has caused us. All the pain, the suffering, the humiliation, the shameful exile – all because of you! You, and your failure to understand the laws of this, this world," he pointed around him, emphasizing his point.

"What about you?" she asked the younger boy, the one Leslie had bumped into, he'd remained deathly silent throughout the exchange. He stared into the distance, face stoic and unflinching, as if it wasn't his own. Just when Leslie thought he wasn't going to answer...

"I fight only for myself, and love only myself. As long as there are people to kill in this world... I will know I exist."

Even the older man seemed uncomfortable with the younger boy, he hastily avoided eye contact and had jumped slightly when the boy had opened his mouth; obviously it was rare event.

Alexis looked stunned at the boys words. They seemed to remain in the room, adding an extra layer of tension. When the boy slowly and methodically walked to the corner; back into the darkness, Leslie got the impression that nothing involving him was chance, he was precise and calculated... even with his footsteps.

The older man seemed to grow as the boy walked further away, he obviously was not done ranting and raving, "You sub-humans," he spat the name as if it left a foul taste in his mouth, "Anything you don't understand. You lash out at. Violent, destructive and inefficient. You've grown complacent, you've forgotten what got you where you are, the forests, the... No, while you may have forgotten, mating and growing in your pig sties. We endured. We never forget, we embrace our destiny, and teach those who have forgotten. Oh, the indignitie-"

"Leslie!" P.T whispered pensively, disengaging her from the man's tirade.

Leslie hushed him, whispering exasperatingly, "Honestly, P.T. You _implore_ me to sit tight and listen, and when it-"

"Leslie, look behin-"

"There you go again, interrupting just when it gets interesting, you always do-"

"Oh, you need not fret. I assure you this is about to get very 'interesting'."

Leslie jumped around, but it was too late. She was cornered. It was the abomination once again. He was not merely a shadow now, he seemed more developed, he was even smothering P.T.

"Our powers grow stronger as I get closer to my prey."

Leslie's eyes bulged, alarmed. "You can, can read m-minds?"

"I can do anything... now get inside!" he snapped.

His aura seemed to be trying to consume her, she gladly ran into the room. She would have climbed Mount Everest, just to get away from... it.

The abomination followed her in, closing the door ominously. "My brother, we have visitors, you so rudely failed to invite them."

The older man opened his mouth to protest before he scanned Leslie. He looked at his "brother" for confirmation.

"Is it, is it... her?"

"Yes, it is the 'Queen'."

They laughed mockingly. They loved the game. The thrill of it!

"Who... are you people?" Alexis asked again, not sure whether to be amazed or terrified. They seemed tired of questions and ignored her, they moved closer together. Leslie crept over, as slowly as possible, to Alexis.

She whispered in her ear, "When I give the signal, you run."

Alexis didn't get the chance to acknowledge she heard as the "brothers" conversed.

"We shall begin the ritual in the Kingdom. Bring the vessel with haste, I need the sustenance quickly."

"It shall be done, my brother," the older man bowed ceremoniously.

"I will do it," the boy in the shadows spoke, his words left at a bare minimum, as if it was uncomfortable for him to speak. The abomination looking slightly beleaguered, obviously he had forgotten the boy, or rather hoped he had left.

The abomination hesitated, "Kill the others quickly... it isn't becoming; remember your purpose."

He disappeared through what Leslie could now see was a small portal. Literally, a small circle in the wall... it was growing bigger, Leslie noted. The older man followed, not even daring to look back at the boy.

"Come," the white eyes didn't even look at them, back turned, as if it were already decided.

Leslie gathered her wits, standing in front of Alexis, P.T whined cautiously.

"We're not going!"

The shouting increased from the principal's office. "Burke, is that you? Who the hell are you talking to?"

The eyes stared at Leslie, amused. "I only require one."

Leslie forced herself not to cower like a frightened child under the harsh gaze.

"Just tell us, why are you doing this?" Alexis asked again, this time more forcefully. Fortunately, Leslie's back shielded the gaze from meeting her.

The boy snorted; like he was talking to a slow 5 year old who just didn't quite get it. "There is no... why. This was meant to be."

Leslie gulped, that last sentence had forced her to concede something she hadn't dared think. "You're not... you're not that boy any more, are you."

It was a statement.

The boy laughed, a horrible laugh, a laugh that shared all the mechanics of laughter, but without the joy, the humour... it was empty. "He has been... upgraded."

Alexis spoke, looking as white as a ghost. "What was his name?"

The delivery of her words was conflicted, a mixture of hollowness and passion, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying, but still needed to with all her being.

The boy shrugged. "It is insignificant."

"Please," Alexis begged, voice deathly quiet, Leslie was off balance with it all, it was too much!

"You're pathetic! To think, you have stalled their plans for so long... Fine, the sub-human, his name was... Der, no... Richard."

Alexis closed her eyes."I'm sorry, Richard. I'll get you out of this."

That angered the boy, no, the monster further. "He is dead. He accepted his existence, to kill. That was his fate, his life... He was thankful, I... completed him."

"That's not true," Leslie found her voice, spurred on by righteous anger. "He didn't choose this... You did something... This was you, not him!"

"I merely gave him what _he_ wanted!" the boy's eyes twinkled malevolently.

Leslie wanted to vomit, he was sick, wrong, she wanted to run. "You're... a monster."

The boy nodded matter-of-factly, he almost looked... resigned. "Yes, I am."

Leslie was slightly unnerved by his words, but she had a feeling that if she stopped speaking, he would take action. She needed a plan!

"Is that what you do - body snatchers? You steal them away from their friends, their families."

The boy's face erupted into a frown at the last word. "You cannot escape destiny. We were born unloved, we live unloved, we will die unloved."

"...We?"

"Fate," he answered, almost snidely.

Frustrated, Leslie felt the need to challenge him. "If you're so sure of fate, what's mine?"

The white eyes glazed over. "Death. You were born to die, you live to die, and you shall. You will be shown no mercy, you are the heathen."

Leslie winced. " I'm... that...bad, huh, better not tell my parents...," Leslie laughed. She was scared beyond comprehension, and she felt like her mouth was running on auto–pilot. Yet she still laughed. She would not give this creature the pleasure of seeing her scared.

"Even now, you laugh at the darkness. But I think, as your people like to call it, merely whistling in a graveyard."

"... And mine?" Alexis asked shakily, trying to be brave.

"Your vessel will be used to support their species. You should be honoured."

Alexis gulped loudly in response, averting his gaze, wishing she hadn't asked.

"That won't happen, I won't let it," Leslie started.

"You cannot change who you are. You cower away from life, hiding in your fantasy, your Terabithia."

"How do you know about th-"

The monster ignored her. "You are weak, they are infinite. This cannot be changed. We live to kill, it gives us purpose, an existence. We fight for our own existence, to see how much it is worth."

"That's not true, that isn't all we're worth!"

"You say this, arguing with the face of a killer."

"A... killer?" Alexis asked, disbelieving. Leslie ignored it.

"We make choices, sometimes right, sometimes wrong, but that's what makes us human!"

"There is no choice," there was a sense of finality in his voice.

"...Is that YOUR choice?"

The monster, Leslie would not call him Richard... not like this, seemed fascinated. "Is that, truly, what you believe?" The white eyes seemed to light up, as if he'd been looking forward to this.

Leslie nodded slowly.

"Very well, I will seek to educate you!"

He pointed at Alexis, "Come."

Her legs seemed to move with a mind of their own, she looked at Leslie, helpless.

"Stop -"

An enormous flashing white light filled her vision with searing pain. She heard P.T yelp in anguish, and was idly aware of making contact with the floor. Thwack. Her eyes closed like a prison door being slammed shut. Darkness.

* * *

The darkness gave way to light, Leslie opened her eyes, she could still see that blinding light when she closed them. She felt her way around, that chewing gum infested carpet... she was still in the waiting room! She couldn't see the others, Leslie panicked.

"Where- what happened, where's P.T, Alexis!" Leslie tried to sit up, her legs failed her.

"The girl has been taken to our kingdom, as I said. The dog has been removed."

Leslie stared at the sickeningly brown carpet of the waiting room. She felt her world shatter into tiny little pieces. She tried to get up, she felt paralysed. Removed?

The creature smiled smugly, "Mortifying, isn't it?"

Leslie tried again, same result. The creature laughed, "You are on your knees against a power you can neither face, nor comprehend."

Leslie felt like she was sinking into the carpet, she tried a third time, she remained vertically challenged.

The creature spat on the carpet. "And now, at the end, you find out how utterly powerless you are."

Leslie managed to get to one knee. Her mind was empty except for one endless war cry. _Get up! Get up!_ She told herself. It was the only thing she could do.

"It is only an illusion that hard work makes dreams come true. "

She tried the other leg, wobbled and fell slightly. _Get up! Get up!_

"I could kill you right here, right now. No one would notice, no one would care."

Leslie tried again, sweating with the effort. There! She made it. Instead of angering the monster, it seemed to amuse him.

"Ah, but I see that fire remains in your eyes, I must concede, I am impressed. They usually don't last this long."

"They?"

"Are you still adamant on saving your 'friend' and proving me wrong, proving thousands of years of evidence wrong, proving _destiny_ wrong?"

Once again, Leslie nodded. Her mind was too numb to do anything else.

"Very well, now is your chance. That was what you were pinning for, a chance to choose. You can go through that portal in an inane attempt to save your 'friend', or you can leave, run away. Your choice, either way, you will die."

Leslie stood there, not entirely sure she could continue to stand, never mind walk through his portal. Her head buzzed with information. She shook it off. The monster sighed satisfactorily,

"Ah, not so confident now are we, typical sub-human, happy to wax lyrics but never to back-"

Leslie walked through the portal flippantly, the monster, initially affronted, followed, all the while smiling. A smile that never reached his eyes.

* * *

They were walking through what seemed like a dark tunnel. Leslie wasn't quite sure, she got the sense that it almost wasn't... complete. There, there it was again. When she turned to look at something through the corner of her eye, it felt like the image was having to... load up on her. It was almost like a jigsaw, a jigsaw with several missing pieces. There was no noise, no smell, nothing. Just the darkness, and the need to keep on walking... no matter what. She had to, for Alexis.

They walked for a while, although in this place, Leslie had lost all sense of time. It felt like they weren't really moving, it was just endless darkness ahead. Leslie held her hand out clumsily to make sure she didn't bump into anything in front of her, though she imagined she wouldn't be seeing anything for a long time. A sudden unsettling thought that this was all a trap corrupted her. She was afraid to ask where they were going, assuming the monster would take it as a sign of weakness. Leslie thought of the one thing she could do better than anyone...

"What's your name?" Leslie didn't turn around to ask him, just merely kept looking ahead at nothing. She didn't expect him to answer... she was surprised.

"I have no name."

It was short, swift and emotionless. An improvement. Encouraged, Leslie continued.

"Come on, everyone has a name, a family."

"I took the life of the women who gave birth to me when I was born. I was a monster from birth. All I have is my existence, my destiny, my purpose," his voice sounded... so devoid of, anything, Leslie almost felt pity.

"People can change," she said solemnly.

"It is a lie to comfort the weak. You will never be strong enough to defeat me, no matter how hard you work."

"Why?" Leslie asked, feeling lifeless. This sea of nothingness was affecting her mood. It was oppressive, Leslie would have never imagined that out of all the horrific evil in the world, the worst she would ever encounter was just... nothing. Empty space. Darkness. She felt like they were the only ones left on Earth.

"Destiny."

He was like a broken record. The silence continued for a while, Leslie allowed for his words to digest. She had the sudden urge to interrogate, to fix. She did finally turn to look at him, never once stopping her monotonous walk.

"But you have to have a someone, anyone?"

He no longer had the smug smile, the eyes were still as terrifying, but his demeanour, it was... Leslie couldn't place it.

"Family is nothing but a distraction. Everyone I know, they run away."

"That's not true – I'm not running away."

She hadn't meant it to be anything more than a snide comment to correct him, she was disturbed by his reaction.

Exacerbated, he became animated, his pace subconsciously quickened. He looked... scared. "Think about what you're saying. Think about who you're arguing with. This vessel had a family, his mother, his own mother, tried to drown him out of shame."

"... Shame?"

"She had Post Natal Depression. He had Cerebral Palsy, she felt embarrassed, humiliated, the sick child was an indictment on her inability to produce suitable offspring. She attempted to, as you sub-humans call, 'sweep him under the rug'. "

He paused, lost in thought, sweat pouring from his forehead despite the lack of warmth. "She tried to kill him, he was only 7," his tone was hard, blunt, sharp and dangerous. Leslie winced at his callous delivery. It cut through her, the lack of any emotion in his voice, as if he was merely reading a script. She didn't want him to continue but he did, mercilessly,

"He defended himself, there was a ruckus. His mother tripped down the stairs. The police arrived, she was dead, the child took the blame, blood on his hands, too shocked to defend himself. He was taken to a juvenile facility, where he survived and endured on his on, without love. His father sent him birthday cards every year... they were inscribed with death threats, threatening to kill him when he was finally free. He had no hope, no purpose, no existence... _I_ gave him that."

He looked at Leslie, his tone so damned stoic, detached, it drove her mad. She felt she needed to say something.

"Richard doesn-"

"His name was not Richard!" he spoke with a vehement intensity that chilled her to the bone.

Leslie almost thought he cared. "But you said?"

"The name was an illusion. A forced title he was given to hide from his father, from his kind. A new identity, a new body... that was what he wanted... I gave that to him."

"But, you can-"

"Now you may continue your pathetic ramblings on the good of your race, and the values of family. How you attempted genocide on my master's species, how you kill your own planet, your own kind like... words can not do justice to your stupidity."

Leslie wanted to jump to the defence of her people. Of the good in the world, of how this monster was wrong completely and utterly. That he was a pathetic, bitter monster with no grasp on reality. Her mouth didn't open, she continued walking, doubt seeping into her mind. The boy's story had unsettled her, _how could people be so cruel_? Suddenly the world didn't seem so 'good'. Maybe...

* * *

Leslie thought she was going mad, she probably was. This endless tunnel, walking, left, right, left right, left, right. She wanted to bang her head against the wall, just to prove that this was real, that there really was a wall. Although she was deathly afraid that the wall would suddenly disappear, incomplete. There was no sign of life, just their footsteps.

She wrinkled her brow. "1 sheep, 2 sheep, 3 sheep, 4 sheep, 5 sheep, 6 sheep-"

"What, in the name of the Master, are you doing?" the monster said, exhausted with her.

She huffed at the interruption, and continued, "7 sheep, 8 sheep, 9 sheep, 10 sheep, 11 sheep, 12 sheep..."

"You're supposed to visualize it-"

"13 sheep, 14 sheep, 15 sheep..." Leslie continued, louder than before.

"I'm going to kill her." The monster whispered indiscriminately under his breath. Leslie wouldn't bet against it!

* * *

"2,333, sheep, 2,334 sheep, 2,335 sheep, 2336-" Leslie suddenly stopped. The silence was so shocking after so long, it disoriented the monster.

"What, why, is there a problem?"

Leslie slapped her forehead, groaning miserable. "I can't take it any more, my brain's dying by the second, where are we going, and how long is this, this," she pointed at the walls of the tunnel like it was the devil reincarnate, "going to take!?"

The monster licked his lips. "This is it, the 'Trial of Existence', prove me wrong."

Leslie looked around. "What, how... I-"

They were in a spacious but otherwise desolate room. The walls were old dirty stone, it wasn't as dark as the tunnel, but the only light source belonged to two small fire light torches hanging from opposite ends of the room. They were positioned to light what was the only immediate object she could see; a strange golden archway that almost looked like it was made of liquid. Meticulously crafted silver wings formed the circumference of the archway. It was a pointed, Gothic design. Leslie looked to the opposite end of the room, another archway, they looked like they symbolized a beginning and an end. Maybe she should have asked where they were going sooner?

"What are you doing here, you are not authorized. This is a protected area, no tourists!" a slightly pudgy man in a dour gray uniform walked over to them. He walked with a gait that leaned towards the badge on his arm. A horrible squishing emanated from his boots as he thudded towards Leslie, obviously seeing her as an easy target. He started waving what looked like some sort of blade in his hand suggestively, hoping to intimidate her.

"Do I look like a tourist?" the monster asked in a casual tone.

"What! Crap, sorry, I didn't notice you, I meant no offence, Mr, sir, err," the uniformed man didn't even bother salvaging his sentence, running off, dignity forgotten. Leslie heard a door slam shut emphatically.

"You really have a way with people," she supplied sarcastically, bemused.

The monster walked over to the archway; leaning on it, holding out his right arm dramatically. "Step onto the platform; walk across the room, if your beliefs are as concrete as you state, you will pass unharmed, if not, you shall burn."

Leslie studied the archways again."I just have to walk across a room, that's all?" It all seemed a little _too _easy.

The monster folded his arms, that same stoic expression on his face that gave nothing away, it might as well have been a brick wall she was looking at.

"Not just a room, but your own existence."

Leslie felt like ripping out her hair. "What the hell does that mean!?"

"I grow tired of this useless conversation. Maybe you're not so sure after all, would you like to turn back?" he straightened up, frowning, anxious to get this over and done with.

Leslie actually mulled it over this time. Could she really do this? An image of Alexis, smiling at her with a shy, bashful expression 'I've always wanted to save a lives, even if I could only save one, I'd be happy.'

The phrase reverberated in Leslie's head like a beacon, 'save a life'. Leslie stepped onto the platform. She spared a glance at the monster, his expression was impossible to read although his hands were now clutched at his side – tense. She looked at what seemed like an empty archway, she had no idea what she was getting into. For all she knew, stepping through this archway would blow her to pieces.

Leslie took a deep breath and stepped forward. The first step.


	4. Memories

Chapter Four

Memories

_Always remember others may hate you but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself_

* * *

Splash!

Water. Lots of it. It bombarded her, suffocated her, she felt a stinging sensation, another slash.

Leslie was swimming, she felt water. No - she was drowning, she had to get to the top. She couldn't, her clothes felt, so heavy, her head, it ached terrible. She heard the frantic yelps of P.T from farther and farther away. She wasn't sure if he was moving away, or if it was her losing consciousness. Leslie waved her arms madly, desperately, clawing for anything, she could almost touch the surface. Just a little. No! There was something holding her. She kicked wildly to get free, but it was too late. She felt the vile water disseminate her lungs. She felt life leave her. She couldn't breath, she screamed but no sound came out. Blue turned to black.

* * *

"Would all prisoners line up against the wall, you will be escorted to the Dark Kingdom to be branded. Be dignified, you are _his_ elite, the goblins will lead the way."

You are a little boy, cowering in a line of all different shapes and sizes. There were men, woman, dwarfs, trolls. You are dismayed to find no one even remotely close to your age. The chains round your hands nearly topple you over. You grit your teeth, they are ice cold on your skin, you watch your hands go from red to blue, and back again. The sirens blare callously in the background, goblins scurrying like rats across the open fields, dragging trees and other greenery. Entranced, you follow one tree, it seemed to be desperately holding onto the ground – its home.

Your heart was in your mouth, vicariously in pain, the event was torturous. You look along the line of battered and bruised creatures, their faces placid, stoic. Apathy. You hear it before you see. The tree had finally lost its battle. A pair of goblins muttered obscenities as they lifted the tree, their hands poisoned chalices. You stare, transfixed at the empty space the tree had left. It seemed morbid to look at it, indecent, naked. Only the roots remained, spurting out of the ground in anguish, having lost its soul mate, separated in an act of savagery. The trail that the tree left as it was dragged away, odd pieces of bark, a branch or two. You imagined they were breadcrumbs, that even now the tree was plotting a return, a redemption. You looked at the falling leafs, crying in the wind: an epitaph.

A goblin roared, swinging its whip at the line of demoralized creatures."Hurry up, you bunch of wasters!"

You try to dull out the whimpers and cries from the grown men. You don't like to hear them cry. It made you feel unsettled, nervous. You wanted to go home. You were tired, hungry, the man in front of you smelled. The air was dirty, polluted; the scenery naked without trees. You wanted your father, your friends.

A particularly frail man buckled under the punishment of the whip.

"What the hell are you doing! Get moving, you're holding back the line. If you slack off, we'll ask the master to have your funeral!" The goblin was foaming at the mouth as he relentless tortured the man, his cries were drowned out in the dirt he had collapsed into. You tried to block it out, selfishly wanting them to disappear, you couldn't stomach it.

"It's him, it's the Key Monster!"

You jumped, startled, the awe and reverie in the men's voices surrounding you made you look. You couldn't see much in the polluted air; it made your eyes sting, but you knew one thing. One thing in the mass of sweaty bodies, the sheer dichotomy of life... and pain.

You wanted to run away, fast.

Tugging on the chain precipitously, you tried to look innocent, leaning casually on the wall nearest you. The chains were made for men twice your size, it wasn't impossible. You wriggled your arms, biting your lip to avoid the dreaded sound of apprehension. You tugged again, forcefully, the smelly man in front you cursed, you stopped.

You heard the man's breathing slow, the air seemed to leave the area. The line stopped suddenly, it felt like time itself had stopped. The Key Master was there, he was walking alone the outskirts of the line, obviously assessing them first hand. A goblin ran hurriedly behind him, scrambling notes down onto a dishevelled piece of scroll that matched his attire. You began to shake, the Key Master was walking quickly, he'd be looking right at you soon.

Another goblin ran through the endless line of creatures, nearly meeting his end at the hands of a troll's stomp. The goblin, breathless, knelt before the Key Master, who looked infallible, eyes never leaving the line as he continued his inspection.

The kneeling goblin, remembering himself, ran after the Key Master.

"Master, we have began the symbol engraving ceremony, these new batch of warriors should be read-"

"Do you think me a fool?"

The goblin was startled, the smelly man beside you twitched anxiously.

"No, no, of course-"

The Key Master turned swiftly, grabbing the goblin by the throat, lifting him from the ground. It was as if he'd known the exact place the goblin had been without even turning. He continued walking down the line as he strangled the goblin, whose gargles of asphyxiation making even the staunchest dwarf pale.

"Do not waste my time." The Key Master dropped the goblin like a broken toy, muttering "fool".

You had no idea if the goblin was dead, the note taker stepped uneasily over it, following his Master, but keeping out of arm's reach.

"I'll kill you!" An old gray haired man ran with a speed that belied his ageing body. The line of men gasped with the audacity of the stunt, the Key Master didn't flinch. His gaze travelled lazily towards the running man. The man suddenly bent over in pain, clutching his head, you noticed a bright mark on his forehead.

The Key Master gave no sign of emotion as the old man writhed in front of him. You did noticed that his hand seemed to be moving under his robe; the old man's forehead was glowing, a strange mark.

The Key Master continued walking. "This stock seems to be a bit off. He's already been marked, I trust you know what to do with him, or do I have to kill you for your incompetence."

The goblin gulped, not daring to speak, merely nodding his head, carrying the man away, barely managing.

You began to feel nauseous, he was getting closer, it was inevitable, you hadn't done anything wrong, yet you couldn't shake the fear that the Key Master had killed people for much less than nothing.

You didn't know what possessed you, you weren't exactly thinking any longer. The sight of the old man, being carried away, still screaming, eyes rolled back, drooling, convulsing. Being treated like cattle... you ran.

You heard goblins shout exclamations, you ignored them, only knowing one thing: run! Your chains seemed to melt before you, the men in the line cheered at the sight of you, seeing this as a practical joke. Mutterings from the guards floated to your ears, something was getting closer. This was a bad idea, you had – your feet were swiped from under you; face landing heavily on the ground, spitting dirt. A whip collided with your back, you screamed, but your mouth barely opened before it came crashing down again. You didn't feel pain, but the shock of everything was terrifying.

"Stop!"

You heard voices, but were too dazed to make it out. You were sure you heard further screams, you spat out the dirt from the ground, content to sleep there and then. Eventually, the ground moved away, you realized you were flying, no being carried. Eyes closed, only the pollution corrupting your nostrils was enough to make you remain conscious. You felt for what was supporting you, the grip was solid, uncompromising, it felt cold against your skin.

You were placed back on the wall, back in the line, one of the cattle. It took everything you had not to melt to the ground. A voice commanded you to look up... it wasn't one someone said no to. It was the Key Master, his eyes were wide, captivating, they seemed to be trying to dedicate every part of you to memory. His snake like nostrils flared, dagger-like teeth gleamed luminously, a sudden image of a crocodile, lethargic, but ready to pounce sprung to your mind. He was the crocodile.

"There probably is no point in living... other than power."

You waited for the chains to be put back, they never came.

"But perhaps, by living, we can grow stronger, and make them feel the pain you felt. Maybe we can find interesting things, like how I found you."

A goblin was cowering before you, too afraid to kneel properly, he was shaking, praying for forgiveness.

"This is the insect that hurt you, would you join me, grow stronger, make him pay?"

"...I just wanna go home, please." You could feel yourself fading, your vision was slightly off. The constant throbbing of your back after every heartbeat was excruciating, only exacerbated by leaning on the wall, the rock rubbing against the wounded, bleeding flesh. You averted your gaze, afraid at what he might do, subconsciously protecting your forehead.

"...Home," the Key Master muttered, emotionless.

You looked up, he had disappeared. The goblin was still praying beneath you, stuck in a trance of terror that could never be quenched, you winced as you stepped on his urine. Fresh cries of agony was heard from upfront, the line began to move again.

* * *

You were again a little boy, sitting in some sort of cave, a cave with no exit. The rough, ragged stone walls, covered with a substance that looked eerily like blood, towered over you. Yet, you did not feel fear. These walls had been all you had ever known for so long. Your home, your world.

Despite this, you couldn't help but feel... it was something you couldn't describe. The cave was draped in shadows, holding you back from the light. Your eyes had adjusted to it long ago, not much else had.

Not much sound travelled into the cave. You were stupid after all, and didn't really understand what sound was exactly. You imagined it was something like tiny bees, so tiny you couldn't even see them, travelling into people's ears, talking to them.

No one talked to you.

The main activity of your day was listening to the dripping of water from the right corner of your wall. It was the only source of life in this purgatory. It was constant. Forever. The never ending dripping. If you closed your eyes, not that you needed to, you imagined that the dripping was matched by your very own heartbeat. They were joined, connected together; it was a nice feeling – not being alone.

It was a times like these that you wondered. Why? Why you? You didn't really believe there was a God, how could there be? Why would he put you in a place like this, had you done something wrong?

"Is there really a God?"

Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. It had been so long since you had uttered... anything. You suddenly grew self conscious, as if something in the walls was watching you closely. The silence in silence had been disrupted. You curled into a ball in the centre of the floor, feeling the blunted edges of stray stones pressing into your side. It was the only physical contact you'd had in years.

Your head rested on the latest letter from your father. He'd said that you were nearly ready, nearly complete. Although you didn't comprehend what he fully meant, at least it meant you could leave this place soon. You remembered vaguely what happiness felt like, playing with the other boys from your village. Terabithia. Your home. The thoughts kept you warm, although you couldn't help but feel slight pity for the cave. What would happen to it once you were gone? At least you had the prospect of leaving, it was stuck here forever. You held your hand out, feeling the edges of the mark that had been engraved into your skin. How long would the dripping last without you?

* * *

You were now slightly older, your forehead twinkled. You were sitting on a swing, deflated and lonely. The sky was strangely made out of rock, but otherwise it looked no different to a normal playground - except for the absence of life. Your chest hurt. Your eyes stung with a preening sharpness. You watched the other kids playing ball across the street; how you wished you could join. The fun filled laughter felt like taunting to your ears. You tried to swing, but couldn't muster any enthusiasm. What was the point? You were alone. The worst thing was, they didn't even just simply hate you, they feared you. You could almost stand being hated, but feared. No.

It hadn't worked out properly... this wasn't what it life was supposed to be like. Your father's letters had sounded so enticing, so full of promise. It had soon been quenched by reality. You lifted your hand towards your forehead, shielding it from view. The mark. The mark that condemned you, ostracised you. It symbolized your enslavement, you were now nothing more than a tool; branded, used. Your hand came crashing down on the mark. You looked at your hand... it was a satisfying red. You slapped it again, smiling grimly, this was your penance. As your hand continued to crash down on the mark, mercilessly, you imagined that it was vanishing, that when you looked in the mirror you wouldn't be different from the others. You wouldn't be alone.

The disgruntled cries of the children got your attention. Their ball had gotten stuck on a nearby roof, the game was over. Wait a minute! You almost fell out of your swing in excitement. You were a good climber, the building wasn't that big, surely it was attainable. Prove yourself to them. You couldn't contain your joy, your bubbling hope. This was your chance, your one opportunity to grasp happiness. You would have friends, they would play ball together until it was time for bed. Together.

The climb was long and relentless, but there you stood, on top of the roof, ball in hand victorious. The group of kids were too busy moping about the ball to notice. You climbed down and walked towards them, beaming from ear to ear.

Terror suddenly struck you, and you hesitated. Memories of past failures travelled through you, weakening you. You were terrified, you felt it in you heart. You could barely breath. This was a lot more never racking then in your dreams. The current of the wind usurped your hair, you combed it back, briefly touching your forehead. And your mark. _Please don't run away. Please. Please. Please. Please._

"Here... ya go," you said shakily, hands unsteady, afraid you might drop the ball and embarrass yourself.

30 eyes snapped towards you. They all suddenly bulged, looking at your forehead.

"It's, It... is... him!" one of the boys managed, voice squeaking. It was filled with a fear only matched by yourself. Your heart was in your mouth, you bit your lip to stop yourself from trembling. They began to wearily tread away, never turning their back, but turning everything else.

"No, I was just returning the ball." You threw the ball at them, just the way the kids had done it when you had watched.

They jumped out of its path like it was a bomb."It's him, it's the freak, get help! He's trying to get us!"

"Oh Gods, no it's, it's him... the monster... RUN!!" They ran, crying for their lives, positive that they were doomed.

You held out your hand after them. Grasping for something that had always been out of your reach. "Wait... Don't leave me alone... please!"

They didn't listen, just continued running, further and further away. You felt your heart break, an uncontrollable sob shook you. _Please. _

Something inside you snapped. "I... I don't want to be left alone any more." Your hand closed into a fist, the boys suddenly stopped running, falling to the ground in pain. You instantly opened your hand, releasing them. Did you do that? Could you... make them hurt?

They gathered themselves and began running again, you followed desperately, begging for them to stop. You were too slow, you were always too slow.

"Stop it, I didn't mean, don't leave me!" You grabbed at the nearest boy in desperation, knocking him over in your haste.

"Get away from me. YOU FREAK!!" He clawed at your face, rabid. You held on like he was your life support, silent praying that this was all a nightmare, a sick joke. _Please_. The boy was tireless but your grip was firm. Looking up, you watched the others run, anger filled you.

A thought struck you as the boy you were holding broke free. T_hey only stayed when_...

"I don't want to be alone any more!!" Your fist closed, the boys fell, crying in agony. You walked over to the crumpled heaps, not sure how to act, but inordinately happy. You bent over them, humming soothingly, the way your mother used to, in your dreams; now there was only nightmares.

You tried to reason, tried to make them listen while they were immobile.

"Now we can be together, together forever." You rocked the boy nearest to you in your arms as he whimpered in pain. Cautiously, you released your fist, knowing they would surely listen now. They'd seen how nice you'd been, they'd be desperate to play with you now. The boy in your arms tested his limbs slightly, groaning. They looked at each other. _Please. _Your eyes met. You instantly felt a connection, a lov-

The boy spat in your face. You paused in shock, wiping your face. It burned. The boy pushed away from you.

"Quickly, we can lose him by the river!"

Your eyes glazed over, you tasted your rage."I won't be left alone." You closed both your fists, smirking devilishly. Blood erupted from the boys... but they weren't running any more. They were together, together forever.

"Artemis, stop!" Your father blocked the onslaught, wincing in pain. You instantly opened your fists in shock, eyes clearing.

"Father..." You stood there, in the mass of blood. Afraid that if you moved, it would all become real, like in your nightmares. Your father limped over to you. Would he ran away too? You collapsed onto the pavement, weighed down by your dark thoughts. You were bad, bad, bad. Alone, sick. That was it, you were sick, there was something wrong with you, if you could just get it fixed, you wouldn't be alone any more. _Please._

"Let's go home."

You didn't answer, mesmerized by your hands, they were red, red with blood that wasn't your own. He carried you home.

* * *

Your father limped to the kitchen; preparing dinner. You stood there dumbly, feeling you didn't have the right to sit down. Your father had washed you vigorously under the sink... so why did you still feel so dirty?

The house was silent. The orange walls did not bring you warmth, they only seemed to emphasize your eternal loneliness. You noticed a knife on the table, your hand swarmed over it, gripping it tightly. Your face remained stoic as you studied the knife, it practically gleamed in the candle light, reflecting your face. Your mark. You pushed the knife forward into your forehead, all the while looking at a picture of your dead mother. She had blue eyes, blue eyes that reminded you of your tears.

Nothing, the knife stopped, an invisible barrier shattering it into tiny pieces.

You held the broken remnants of the knife in your hand, resigned."It's hopeless, no matter what, the powers interfere."

"Artemis," your father called gently from the doorway. He had his arms folded, eyes grim. You instantly dropped the knife.

He slowly and methodically walked over to you, picking up the knife. "Artemis," he repeated. "I am your father. I made a promise to protect you, and I will do everything to keep that promise. Please, don't do that again in my presence."

You nodded, even if it was fruitless. Your father smiled nonplussed. "Then again, your powers will protect you."

You felt like he'd just pierced you with his words, not that you knew how that felt like, not any more. You clutched your hands at your side – tense. You needed answers. "Why did I have to get them? It's not fair, it's not my fault. I didn't want this, I didn't want to be different, I just, I just..." You were almost begging, begging to life, no, to anyone for mercy, for a ray of hope.

"No, it isn't fair." Your father looked heartbroken, his voice was rough and filled with emotion that he could not communicate, not even to himself.

You watched him as he limped to the table, placing the broken knife carefully back in place. You were fixated on his leg.

"Father, I'm sorry."

He turned, shocked. He realized what you was staring at, waving off your concern.

"This, don't worry about it. I've had worse." He laughed slightly, but it was a sound foreign to your ears.

"Does it... did it... hurt?"

"As I said, it'll heal," he spoke seriously, a little flustered by your concern. He began preparing their sparse cutlery for their humble meal.

You remained standing."Hey, father... what does pain, what does it feel like?" You tried to make it sound nonchalant, a silly little question people asked as a joke... you didn't know what a joke was.

"Why would you want to know a thing like that?"

"Well, it's just, I've never felt it before, and... I was wondering."

Your father frowned, searching for the right words. "Well, I suppose I can try. It's, it's not nice, it stings and... and irritates. Erm, something like that, I'm not good at explaining something like that." He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

He had confirmed your suspicions. "Does that mean you hate me, hate me like the others?" You couldn't even bare to look at him.

Your father knelt down so your eyes were level. "If there's one thing I know about pain: it's temporary. I don't hate you. People hurt each other all the time, but to hate something, no, that is truly difficult."

"Really?" you asked desperately, not daring to hope.

"Really." He patted your shoulder. It felt wonderful, like you weren't alone. You had an epiphany.

"I think I understand."

Your father shrugged you off in a polite manner. He was a busy man."Good, I'm pleased."

You didn't notice his subtle hint. "Maybe, maybe I'm hurt. Hurt like everyone else."

"But, Artemis, you can't..." he started, concerned.

"No, I... don't hurt like other people." You held your heart. "I always hurt here."

You continued to press against it, finding the words. "It doesn't bleed, but my chest really hurts, it hurts and it doesn't stop, it never stops."

Your father's face strengthened with resolve, he took one of the broken fragments and cut his finger. You gasped with surprise, not sure what was happening. It began to bleed. You looked away.

"Look, Artemis," your father's voice was soft but commanding. You looked.

"Pain like this, this flesh wound. They may bleed and seem painful... but they heal, whether by time or medicine. This, this cannot compare to the pain of the heart. It is the worst pain, no medicine can fix it, time does not stop it... only one thing can, and it is for someone else to give. "

You were enraptured, desperate to have the final mystery unveiled so you wouldn't be alone. "What is it, what is it?" you asked urgently.

"Love."

You blinked at him, repeating his words uncomprehending.

Your father continued soothingly, "Yes... love. Love from a person that cares about you, that would do anything for you."

_I won't hurt any more if I get this_,you thought jubilantly. But there was still a pressing question.

"How- How can I get this, where?" You looked around the room as if it would suddenly pop up on you, waving.

Your father was bewildered, he then broke into a grin. "Why, Artemis... You already have it."

"W-what how, I don't see anything." Had you missed it? No, you didn't feel any different, so how did you have it?

"Love cannot be seen. It can only be expressed by devoting yourself to someone else – protecting and caring for that person with your life."

You lowered your head, that was something you could never have. You voiced your thoughts.

"That's not true. I believe that your mother loved you. I think," he paused for a moment. "You remember the story of the 'endless war'?"

You nodded.

"The powers that you have, it has been passed down our people over the generations. Only a select few can be _his_ weapon."

The rhetoric didn't appease you, it angered you. "Why did it have to be me, I don't want it, I don't want to kil-"

"I think your mother gave you it." Your father's gaze was strong, courageous... everything you weren't.

"-Huh, I don't understand?"

Your father looked at the ceiling, as if silently asking for inspiration. "I think these powers you have... I think your mother gave them to you, to protect you. I think she believed that you could do something great. These powers, they automatically protect you."

"Something great?"

"I think that was her last wish," he said with longing. "For you to be protected, protected through love. I believe that a mother's love is the strongest love, and that her love is your power. It's a nice thought, don't you think? She is still protecting you, even after death. Always."

Your father sounded upset despite his words, it made you sad. "I wish she wasn't... I wish I could've meet her."

"Your mother... had... faith in you, as I do."

You suddenly felt quite shy, blushing, you looked away. You weren't used to compliments, even from your father. A part of you was almost thankful that your mother was dead, so she wouldn't have to be disappointed in you. So she wouldn't run away. Your eyes fell on the picture of your mother. She was smiling, a perfect scenic backdrop of trees and sun. You disliked pictures, they seemed so superficial. Everyone was always smiling, happy and loved. It didn't seem real to you. You wanted something more.

"What did she look like, mother, I mean?"

Your father looked confused. "There are pictures, Art-"

"No, I want you to tell me, someone who knew her," you almost whined the last words, not sure how to put into words what you really wanted.

Your father sat down on the carpet, eyes reliving a long gone memory. You were slightly confused as to why he was receptive to you today. Usually he would have brushed you off delicately long ago.

"She, she was amazing. Brave, fearless, in fact a little too much for her own good." He began to chuckle.

You were hungry for more. "What do you mean?"

Your father stroked his beard, mulling over how to put it. He wanted to make this right, he needed to... for her. Her memory, all he had left. He stared at the ever smiling picture of his wife.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I and your mother first meet?"

"Nuta," you said, slightly accusingly, why had he never shared this trinket of information before? You felt like a vital part of your life had been denied from you until now. You were desperate and impatient to find it.

He made himself comfortable on the carpet, folding his legs."Well, you see, I didn't come from a very good background."

"You were bad?" you interrupted.

"No, no, nothing like that. Just a little rough around the edges. Anyway, there were these kids that liked to pick on me, I wasn't as... agile as the rest of them, or as brave."

"You were fat?" you interrupted.

Your father's eyes narrowed. "Maybe it would be best if you stayed quiet, at least until the end of the story," he said severely. You nodded, he continued.

"Anyway, one day, your mother was walking by when they were picking on me. There were about 5 of them, fully armed, yet she just stormed right up to them, getting in their faces. When we were kids, the 'it' thing to do was running. Everyone did it, those who were successful reaped the rewards. There was this big cliff, can't recall the name, kids used to dare each other to race to the edge. Whoever stopped first was the loser. These kids that picked on me prided themselves with being tough, your mother challenged the leader to a race."

"Really!"

Your father laughed. "Yeah, he wasn't very happy about it! Although all it took was for your mother to question his manhood, that soon fired him up! You should've-"

He looked at your bewildered expression at the word 'manhood'. He nervously waved it off, realizing it wasn't the best road to go down. "Anyway, moving on...Your mother could be pretty persuasive, let me tell you! So a crowd gathered. The ars- I mean boy, couldn't possible refuse without losing face. They raced, and your mother didn't stop," your father stopped, smiling, enjoying the suspense

"What!" You felt like you were on the edge of the cliff with them.

"Yeah, just jumped right off the edge. The guys just stared dumbly, by that time a really big crowd had appeared, word spreads fast in Terabithia you know, their reputation was destroyed, your mother was now the bravest."

"What happened to Mummy?" you asked, with a concern that made it seem like the event was happening right now.

He began to laugh again, rubbing his head."Yeah, I told you she was reckless. Nearly died in the fall, couldn't walk properly for a month, went straight to hospital. The doctors couldn't believe she wasn't dead, she just kept on saying 'I have a very hard head'. I remember visiting her in the hospital, I was less than impressed by her stunt. Told her she was an idiot, could've been killed. There was a big fight, I left pretty quickly."

"But how..." You were thoroughly appalled. Weren't mums and dads supposed to love each other?

"Erm, I dunno, I was young. Probably felt a bit emasculated, er, I mean embarrassed at being defended by a girl," he quickly added, noticing her confused glance. He really needed help with this talking thing, a coaching module to talk to kids would be a start!

"Your mother was quite determined to walk a bit earlier than in a month. I watched her struggling here one day, I helped her up despite her protests and carried her back to the hospital. I still have the scars." He pointed to his back, giving a mock-grimace.

"So, naturally she wasn't best pleased. Said she hated me for making her life miserable. I then, politely, asked her again why she did it when she hated me so much. That was the first time I'd ever seen your mum lost for words. She sorta muttered something about not being able to stand watching those guys picking on me, and that I was worth a thousand of them. She then asked me why I helped her. It was my turn to blush, I said something terrible corny about how I kind of admired her for standing up to those idiots, and that, I wished I could be that brave someday." Your father had a far away look in his eyes.

"One thing lead to another; the doctors thought I was suffocating her, and the police came to 'escort' me down to the station."

You were in tears from the laughter.

"And in 6 months, we got married in the very same station. How your mother managed that I'll never know, but she had her ways."

A warm glow filled the room, you smiled at each other as you ate. You felt content in your own skin for one of the only times in your life.

You glanced at the broken knife."Thanks for stopping me," you said reverently, hoping to convey your true feelings. He shrugged it off.

"No problem – I... have to protect you as well, remember."

* * *

You sat at the table and finished eating. You could hear the boys out playing again, your heart filled with an insatiable longing that never seemed to stop, only fade at times.

You spoke bluntly,"Why do they hate me?"

Your father looked up from his plate, regretting leaving the window open."They don't hate you, they just... don't understand you, you have to make them."

"How?" It seemed you would only ever have questions, never answers.

"That's something only you can decide." The gleaming glow of peace abandoned the room, you felt cold. You looked at the picture of your smiling - dead - mother.

"What if you're wrong... about mummy. What if I am alone."

"You have me."

You looked at him, disappointed."You're only one person."

"Sometimes that's all you need, that one person. That's all we need, each other."

You nodded, finally decided. You would be strong, not for yourself, but for your father, and... if she was out there, your mother.

* * *

You practically skipped to your future friend's house, jubilant. You had a plan, a peace offering. You would make a friend, bring him to your father, he would be impressed. You stopped at his door, nerves were unremitting now, but you were determined to tame it like a wild animal.

You knocked, the boy answered. "Igotyouthis, erm, sorry, I mean, I got you this, I hear it's good." You wanted to slap yourself, _great first impression_, you thought sarcastically

It was a first aid kit, you'd been paying attention to your father's speech on pain. You felt you had a good grasp on it now. The boy stared at it, then at you, sizing it up. _Please._

He opened his hand to accept the gift, you almost slammed it into him in your excitement.

"Th...anks," he said, gasping from the weight. Maybe you'd gotten too much?

He went inside to put down the gift. You just stood at the door dumbly, not sure what you were expected to do. You hadn't planned this far ahead. Would he even come back? Did you have to come back with more gifts?

You heard voices from inside, the boy came back, looking uncomfortable. "So... I dunno, do you wanna – play, or something?"

You tried to say yes, but it came out as more of a squeak. You blushed profusely before mumbling an affirmative.

"Do you wanna get the rest of the guys?" He had his hands in his pockets, not looking directly at you.

"Yes," you almost yelled. He looked like a deer in headlights, but at least he understood. A success. You could've screamed. It was the happiest day of your life... and the last.

It was wonderful. You had to pinch yourself several times to believe this was really happening. There had been a few awkward moments at first, when they had invited Mirak's – you discovered that that was the boy's name - other friends to play. Their look of initial befuddlement turning into a reluctant acceptance was a reoccurring theme throughout the many doorsteps.

You found yourself in the middle of an intense game of ball. It was a nice intense. The sort that was limited to a friendly, but still competitive rivalry. You actually grew concerned that your face might crack from the smiling, but you had friends, you weren't alone. Who cared? If your face stayed like this forever, you could live with it. You felt like a photo. Later on, you bought a camera and everyone crowded round you, smiling. The perfect photo. So this what all the fuss was about! For that one moment, they were defying time, that moment, captured by a photo, would live forever. It was their way of saying 'hey, look at me, I existed, I lived'. Someone had cared enough about you to immortalize you in a photo. You felt dizzy with joy. It was an addiction you never wanted to give up.

Eventually they started a game of tag. To everyone's astonishment, you had no qualms about being 'it'. You focused on Mirak, chasing him into the woods. They played for a while, but eventually even young children needed rest. They had gotten separated from the others, but you didn't care too much. You had been alone for so long, even one person was sufficient now. They sat down on the bountiful grass, wild and untamed.

You studied your surroundings, Mirak watched, curious of your reaction.

"This is the oldest part of Terabithia."

"Really?" It didn't look like much in your eyes. Sure it was serene, but so was Terabithia in general. They were a faint rattling in the distance, it sounded like cages.

"What's that?" You pointed at an old wooden building, a tree-house. Had the boys made it?

"Dunno, it's been here for ages."

They sat in content silence for a time. The boy looked around conspiratorially.

"Say, erm, how about we play another game?"

"Sure," you chorused.

"Okay, let's play dare, do you want to play dare?"

"I do, I do" she squealed, she'd never heard of dare before, but it sounded fun.

"Okay, then... I dare you to go into the 'Forest of the Pines' and pick a flower."

"Sure." It sounded simple enough.

You sat up, brushing yourself off, walking into the large pine forest. The first thing you noticed was how dark it was. The trees were so dark, it reminded you of your cave, no light could enter this place. You expected to hear the buzzing of insects, or at least some sign of life. There was nothing. Just the swaying of the trees, you thought it was crazy, but they almost seemed to be communicating. The silence was unnerving, the stillness. The trees were so thick at the top, the masked the sky. No low bush or grass could grow in the darkness. So the ground was carpeted with golden needles. You felt like the place was haunted.

Despite this, the sound of a rattling noise made you jump. You'd never heard anything like it before, you couldn't possible describe it. Recklessly, you tried to find the sound. You noticed a strange sort of carriage, at least it looked like a carriage. It had four wheels, and seemed to be smoking. Fragments of glass were scattered across the grass. You hid behind a fallen tree.

You inhaled sharply as you watched a bloodied young man stumble out of the smoking carriage. The strange noise had stopped, but the twinkling of a key ornament endured.

A strange creature that seemed familiar to you stepped out of the shadows, no it was the shadows. "Pity, I had hoped my new container would be undamaged."

The bloodied man fell to his knees, defeated. "It's, it's you!"

The shadow walked forward, undeterred. "You know what happens now."

The man began to wail pathetically, he crawled towards the shadow, dignity lost."Just, please, don't hurt my family!"

"Very well." The shadow smirked at the man's blabbering. "Oh, don't worry. You won't lose everything, you'll still be able to feel one thing: pain."

The man's agonized screams followed you as you ran.

* * *

You were disappointed to note that Mirak hadn't waited for you, still, you reasoned that it was probably past his bed time. You even began to convince yourself that what you saw was a dream. Nothing could possible dampen your mood, it was a dream. _It was_.

You hopped home, humming a catchy cheerful tune. It took you hours to get to sleep. How could you possibly sleep at a time like this? This was the most alive you'd ever felt, you weren't alone any more.

You didn't sleep very long either. You had friends now, you didn't have time for that useless commodity.

You rushed to Mirak's house, relieved to find that it was still standing. You still weren't alone. You chirped happily on the door. You had to control your frenzied energy, it would be embarrassing for your friends if they saw you bouncing on their front door.

The door opened, Mirak appeared, he was frowning.

"Hi, want to play? I'm sorry about the game yesterday," you said warmly, unperturbed.

"What are you doing here?" He looked genuinely confused at you.

"But, eh, we're friends, remember, yesterday, it was fun." _Please._

"He said you'd be dead." The disappoint in his voice killed you.

"I, I, but we're friends. I don't understand," you stuttered.

"Friends with a monster who kills?" He spat the word, revolted at the sigh of her.

"But, I thought, I didn't hurt-"

The boy slammed the door in your face, you could hear faint shouts of hateful words through the door. You felt numb, detached, like you'd been ripped from your body and forced to watch. You wept.

You let your tears fall freely as you walked, you had no idea where you were walking to, you just knew that you had to, or it would all be real.

You began running, wild, desperate. The tears blinded you; you collided into heavy object, aimlessly, feeling nothing, as always.

"Why!" you screamed at the world, righteous anger. You hit everything in your sight, hoping you could destroy the world, let it feel the pain you felt. _Why, why, why!_

You felt something collide with your back, toppling you over. You landed on the concrete, winded. You turned to look at your attacker, he kicked you sharply in the face, wiping any hope of a smile from it forever.

He continued kicking you relentless, you covered up, cowering.

"I'm going to kill you, kill you for all the people you killed, monster."

Your ears were ringing, but you heard perfectly. The same rage you'd felt before erupted in you again.

You anticipated and dodged the next kick, and then you were all anger, taking out all your frustration. You literally threw your limbs at the attacker recklessly, not caring about your own well being. Just knowing that you needed to hurt this person, educate him, make him feel your pain, your loneliness. You felt good, you were good at this, hitting areas that made him cry out repeatedly. You didn't know how you knew, you didn't care, as long as you had this man's life in your hands... you weren't alone.

You heard a satisfying snap of broken bones; he pushed himself off you. Limping down the street, into the shadows, he didn't cower frightened, he sat peacefully on the ground, as if he were setting his death bed.

You suddenly felt scared. There was red on your hands again, you didn't like that colour, and why was the man limping when you hadn't hit him there? His breathing started to become shallow and infrequent, he looked like he was going to sleep. His breathing sounded hoarse. You squirmed uncomfortable, afraid to run, and afraid to stay. You approached him, he was wearing a mask, he couldn't go to sleep in that, you reasoned, ludicrously.

You uncovered the mask, it was your... your father.

No, you looked away, then back again. This wasn't right, you were dreaming of course. This wasn't supposed to happen. You began to weep again, this was wrong, you slapped the ground in frustration, attacking life again, you pulled your hair, shook your head. _No, no, no, no. _"I don't, I don't understand, why, why did you?"

"Why are you crying for me, Artemis?" The voice was slow, and in pain. You felt dizzy, you collapsed in front of him, begging for forgiveness, hoping for a hug, to be wrapped in his arms. _Please_.

"I thought you were an... I didn't know." You wailed into his bloodied shirt, his blood. You wanted to vomit.

"I...was...ordered. I bring a message." The words were separated by long straggling breaths. He didn't respond to your touch.

"Message?" you whimpered inside his shirt, hoping for comfort, anything.

"No one loves you, you are alone."

You cried in his shirt, begging for him to stop, to get up, to carry you home. Hope gave you an olive branch. Your last...

"But, you said, but you were ordered, so, you didn't want to-"

These were a dying man's last words. "I wanted to, oh, I've wanted to for so long. There was always a constant battle inside my heart. I saw you as my precious son, but also the monster who killed my wife with your first breath," he paused, coughing blood that landed on your face.

"She did not wish for your birth, she was selected for this task. You are illegitimate, a scar on the families' name. That is my scar, that is my pain that won't heal, Artemis. You were born out of hate. I wish you would die, why can't you just die?"

"No, no, no, no," you repeated it over and over again.

"You were born as a weapon, Artemis. That is all you are, all you ever will be. People don't change, they just get tired. Your destiny has been set out in front of you."

It was painful for him to speak, but he wanted to leave one last message of his own."Artemis, I... hate... you." And then he was dead. Gone forever. And then you were alone. Forever.

You wept and wailed into his shirt, now covered with blood. You thought you heard him speak again, but it was footsteps coming from afar. You didn't look up, still clinging to the last shreds of your father's warmth, savouring it, bottling it up.

"Do you feel pain?" the voice asked. It wasn't an olive branch, it was death. You continued weeping into your father's shirt. Your dead father. Your dead mother. Alone.

"Your emotions, your love has made you into this. Do you think this is strength?" The voice was closer now, dripping with persuasion.

It whispered,"Do you want to be strong?"

You looked up sniffing, you locked eyes with what would become known as the Dark Master. You nodded.

"Then come with me."

As you walked, almost blindly, following his voice, you heard someone receive an order. "Burn Terabithia, burn it to the ground."

* * *


	5. Redemption

Chapter Five

Redemption

_If you have made mistakes, even serious ones, there is always another chance for you. What we call failure is not the falling down but the staying down

* * *

_

Jess hesitated, wobbling on the pavement awkwardly as he found his mind swamped in indecision.

The driver was less than sympathetic to Jess' ordeal, drumming his hand impatiently on the steering wheel, adding to Jess' already convoluted thoughts. "Are you coming or going, Aarons? I've got a schedule to keep, you know!"

"Err," Jess started, not knowing how to explain, "I gotta..." He had to what? What? Jess rubbed his temple with frustration, sun glaring down at him with intense scrutiny.

"Today, Aarons," he said with a warning tone, hand deliberately toying with the ignition. Jess could feel the now frequent cold stares emanating from the bus as he took a step back, ears ringing with his thumping heart. He knew what he had to do, he just really didn't want to... really...

"Jess," Richard tried softly, tone comforting as he stood just inside the bus, grabbing onto his friend's shoulder and encouraging him to follow. "You know Leslie doesn't get the bus any more, you remembe-"

"Yes, I remember!" Jess snapped angrily, but he didn't move under Richard's hold, actually leaning in for... reassurance? Jess shook his head forcefully, disregarding the hair whipping his face. He needed to say this, to at least convince himself that he tried to the end, that he didn't just give in.

"I can't just forget and move on, not like all of you! Seems I'm the only one who actually remembers any more..." Jess raised his voice deliberately, letting his tone of resentment kill the mood inside the bus. Jess snorted with disdain at their indignant expressions, the balance of suffering was still painfully rooted on his side... why?

"Jess, you can't keep on doing this." Richard gripped Jess' collar tightly, eyes boring into the boy, right down to the sockets... if he could only just inject some sense into them...

"... You're killing yourself as well!" Richard blurted out before he could stop himself, and he instantly realised his mistake as Jess' eyes hardened, hiding away back into their comfort zone.

"Jess..." Richard sighed deeply, loosening his grip as his eyes became solemn. "Just... don't ruin your life as well... you need to tell her."

Jess scratched his neck evasively, staring at anything but Richard. "I'm gonna tell her, I was going to today but-"

"Jess, you can't keep making excuses, you ne-"

Jess nodded, almost painfully; slow, rigid, the barest shift imaginable. "Fine, okay, I'll tell her. Then you and the guys can all talk to me safely again, huh? No bother." Jess gave a half-laugh, half-cry, voice dripping with bitterness. "Won't it be great?"

"It's not like that... it's not like that at all..."

"Yeah, you're right, as if you'd know what it's like..." Jess shook his head, turning and walking away unceremoniously.

"Jess!" Richard called, but the boy was gone. Richard just hoped it wasn't in both senses of the word.

************************************

Leslie gasped, head slamming into the unforgiving stone floor before she could properly brace herself. Great... what now? She opened her eyes cautiously, unsure what to expect. She tested the ground with her fingers... solid certainly, her aching head could testify to that.

That was good... right, she questioned suddenly, feeling as if the laws of the world had been disregarded like a used bus ticket. She winced as it felt like several lightening bolts were prowling around in her skull with very familiar intentions. No, keep focussed, that's what she needed to do!

Leslie scanned the nondescript room, dust awakening from an eternal slumber with every shift of her neck. Had she passed the trial – whatever that meant? She tried to blink out the dots in her eyes... she could do this, she just had to-

"Stop fighting... It is going to be the same result, even if you continue. Destin-"

"Shut up!" An unadulterated and uncontrollably rage overtook her, she was getting pissed off with his repetitive diatribe. "Saying something over and over again doesn't make it more true, it just makes you bloody annoying."

She felt a new found confidence strengthen her, he was no longer an unknown, immeasurable threat – that was the main source of power for fear, the unknown, where the mind became the enemy... but now she knew. She could put a name to that average face. A name to those creepy, nothing eyes. A name to that feeling of... wrongness that he exuded just by breathing, by being alive.

Leslie wiped the grime from her face, not even daring to risk her hand in the jungle that was her hair.

"Gah," she muttered distastefully, decided to direct her ire at her 'travel guide'. Damn, his stoic, invincible aura was infuriating, she wished she had a handful of butter to test how perfect he really was. "Why is it you, one with eyes that pretend to see everything, why do you still fear – Artemis?"

He frowned, a glimpse of confusion mocking his self-appointed omnipotence. "...What... did you see?"

Leslie raised a satisfied eyebrow at the chink in his armour. "You!" she said, deliberately playing with the dramatics, raising her soprano ominously.

"I see..." His average, unmemorable face seemed impenetrable. Leslie swallowed the bile in her throat as she remembered that that wasn't really his face, it was stolen... a stolen face.

"That's it? That's all you're going to say, th-"

"This changes nothing..." He raised his hand calmly to signal her to stop this nonsense. She hated how his sentences seemed to linger after he spoke, as if they were unsure whether they were supposed to endure or die. Leslie's eyes narrowed as he moved his arm gingerly, flexing it experimentally as if he were unsure what it was for. Ugh, she could use Jess' indefatigable exasperation at this point... lord...

He opened his mouth deliberately, lips curling as he tried them out for size "... Now are-"

"Oh, just wait a minute!" Leslie yelled furiously; if she couldn't finish a sentence then he certainly wouldn't either. "I've had to endure your monotonous monotone for more than my fair share – be merciful for once and answer me this, destiny boy, why did it show you, I wonder?"

His stoic expression remained unperturbed. "The very fact that something is inevitable makes the means meaningless."

"Whow, Mrs Myers would give you a 7 for the alliteration alone..." Leslie said mockingly before yawning loudly, muttering a few choice words about his ability to put her to sleep.

"You are... irritating." It was almost like a question, as if he wasn't quite familiar with the notion of being irritated. Leslie sighed, momentarily envious. Seeing she was getting nowhere with this idiot that held the conversational prowess of a brick wall, she tried a different topic.

"What's the mark about?" Leslie asked determinedly, pointing boldly at his forehead. Best way to break a brickwall? Smash right through it with the bluntest object on hand.

"Do you intend to save your associate or not? This is pointless."

"Yes, and you're deflecting quite admirably. Now if there's one thing the Queen of Terabithia can do – it's talk, so you're going to listen for once." Leslie sat down with an audible thump, making her intentions known as she folded her arms obstinately. "I thought you said I couldn't save her, you're changing your tune all of a sudden, preparing another destiny speech? Or are your philosophies as expendable as your two dollar hair cut?"

He stared at her, face unreadable. Leslie glared back, unperturbed as she smirked. "I think I can save more than one person today, don't you Derek? Hey, maybe I could save the lot, maybe even your mo-"

"Silence!"

Hhmm, interesting, she was getting somewhere, some might take the hint and leave it at that – yet still Leslie pushed, brow furrowing as she licked her lips, traversing a game she'd played many times in the past.

"Come on, what's it going to hurt? What happens today is already written in the very stone we sit on, isn't it? Isn't?" It wasn't so much a question as a challenge, a prod to test the true merit of his words. Leslie subconsciously leaned over slightly, focusing all her energy in goading him in every tangible way. Come on, let's see...

He finally relented, breathing loudly as he maintained a very dignified, divine demeanour. Trying to create the illusion that he hadn't just lost an argument and was doing this of his own accord. "Since you are so curious, I will tell you. This mark," he faltered, tone robotic as he lightly grazed the mark with his forefinger before quickly removing it as if the mark burned him. "This.. this is a symbol of those bound by an inescapable destiny. One day, when I was three, this detestable mark was carved into my very skull."

Leslie tried to keep her voice from breaking, scrunching her face in confused distaste. "Why?"

He sighed, there was no emotion there, only tiredness, as if he'd long ago given up caring, the battle already lost. "I was illegitimate. Therefore, I was disposable."

Leslie's insatiable curiosity was as fit as an Olympic champion, masterful overpowering her compassion. "What does the mark mean though, really, what does it signify? I mean... why put a big mark on someone other than because you wanted to label them-"

"It means complete servitude to one's fate," he interrupted, devoid again of any emotion. Expression dulled as if he was remembering something that had been drummed into him constantly. "We are the evolved species, instead of fighting a losing battle we embrace our destiny and move forward. I am a weapon, born to kill."

"But can't you just, you know, say... no?"

He didn't respond, he knew his words were woefully inadequate for the situation. Instead he perched himself on one knee so their eyes were level, showing the unsayable.

Leslie stared at the dark pools of nothingness that was his eyes. She searched valiantly for something, anything, a spark of curiosity, that awed sense of wonderment one got when the realised just how incredible life was. Leslie strained her own eyes in the desperate hunt, almost willing them to pop out to get a closer look.

She was so sure she could see something moving behind them; trapped by an invisible barrier, suffocating, no, she shook her head. It wasn't a prison, it was a tomb. That strange aura he exuded wasn't evil or dark: that had power, anger and a thirst for vengeance. She looked at him, really looked at him, so hard she noticed she was crying from the effort. It was impossible to describe, all Leslie could manage was the uneasy feeling that grew in her stomach by looking at it... it was wrong, beaten, broken, it was... He was lost...

"That is enough questions," he said, rising quickly. "You passed through the trial, your fellow sub-human is directly through that door."

He broke contact and pointed to a door that seemed to have appeared out of nothing. Leslie took a step back, once again alone with only the evil magnetism that surrounded him, that flirted here and there, like a decadent creature – but did it only surround him, or was it truly what he was?

Leslie nodded reluctantly, a cold ethereal chill seeping into her bones. That look – she quickly rubbed her moist eyes, eradicating the treacherous trails they left in their wake. Keep focussed, she urged herself, haunching her back. Without another troublesome thought, Leslie rushed to the door recklessly, chest puffed out, both confident and haunted by the fact that whatever she was to face... it wouldn't be as bad as that look, at least there would be something to face... something to fight.

She turned the knob, feeling the loud whine of protest the door gave as somewhat... artificial? She scanned the room hastily with an attentive gaze, not wanting to linger on anything for too long. The walls were unnoticeable, giving the room a limitless feeling, as if it could just continue on forever.

Leslie noted that the floor was scattered with all sorts of random little trinkets that one would assimilate over a normal life. A television sat in the corner chattering away to itself while a battered radio beside it growled with jealousy at its undeserved spotlight.

Books and paintings that sported fresh ideas and old horizons were piled up in great big stacks, a powerful embodiment of knowledge, burnished by time gone by. Leslie imagined they were filled with tales of redemption, trials, friendship, adventure, humour and love – every story ever told, where unimaginable dreams became reality, transcending mere memory.

She noticed toys of fantasy worlds and action men, of wizards and warriors and unforgettable heroes sprawled on the floor in varying degrees of decay, showing all the signs of an active life: bite marks; stained clothes; singed hair; conspicuously missing effects and the 'everything-is-alright-dear' patchwork.

Leslie honed in on the makeshift patchwork, there was something very... right about that patchwork. It was only then she noticed the room was painted in gold, as if it had only now just flickered into life.

"Alexis!" Leslie gasped, suddenly spotting her in amongst the tomb of books.

Leslie rushed to wrap her arms around Alexis protectively, for her own benefit as much as Alexis'.

"I told you I'd save you." Leslie felt her cheeks flourish with red, ravelling in the warmth of a friend. Alexis was too frightened to speak, the ordeal had obviously taken a lot out of her.

Leslie nodded in understanding, face etched with the birth of a promise. "Let's go home."

With convenient ease, Leslie aided the frozen stiff Alexis to her feet. Despite her predicament, Alexis managed a brave half-smile. "Thank you, Leslie."

Leslie blushed slightly, waving her off shyly. In truth she was the one that was thankful, although she wasn't sure why. Leslie guessed it was Alexis' serene, taciturn and almost melodic countenance that soothed her spirit, a perfect remedy to that look of...

As if on cue he butted in, as frank and to the point as ever "You won't get far..."

Timing seemed to be oddly perfect today in general, but Leslie wasn't worried about insignificant details, instead scowling as his blunt tone jolted Alexis.

"Would you shut up!" Leslie yelled vehemently, urging Alexis to keep moving, to keep fighting, to keep it alive.

"The Dark Master approaches." The boy bent down automatically. Leslie froze, startled by his tone rather than the content. Was that a slight fear creeping in there? Leslie's eyes scanned the room nervously, feeling her heart tremble. If he was getting scared... then...

It was the classic grandiose introduction of a formidable villain, no, the formidable villain. He appeared out of nothing but imagination, not just taking the stage, but commanding it. Leslie gasped as the light seemed to drain out of the room as if in reverence of his presence, a monumental event that had to be marked in same shape or form. The golden floor degenerated into a sickly yellow, toys buried under the dust as the books burned.

His appearance was shrouded in the midsts of a grey haze, a tangible aura that seemed to be connected to him in some way, enticing him with mystery. He was separate from this world, different, even to the air.

"You are failing me..." Movements pragmatic, speech concise – The Dark Master knew, question were irrelevant to him.

Where Derek was average, plain except for the nothing eyes, The Dark Master was... dominant, yes, Leslie nodded. That was the word. Dominant.

He commanded the world to do his bidding, he ordered air to enter his lungs, although Leslie doubted he would even need to breath, he was too... prominent?

Leslie tried to take a step back but found she couldn't escape him, he took hostage of every sense, manipulating it to make the user feel the way he wanted. The almost putrid taste of sweat that vindicated his confidence through hard-work, the silent reverence he commanded, making an interruption seem blasphemous... and of course that chilling feeling, a result of the realisation that she was completely at his mercy.

Leslie shook her head furiously. Snap out of it, she urged... but Leslie couldn't look away.

Derek frowned. "You want..."

"I did not command you to speak, do not question me."

"Wai-" Leslie started as she rushed over to the veritable feeling of evil, he didn't even acknowledge her presence, like a lion ignoring a fly, nothing more than a worthless irritation. Her eyes widened, he was so much... bigger... even after just a few steps. While every element in the world was desperate to create distance between themselves and Derek, to do that to The Dark Master, it would be like leaving behind everyone you'd ever known, he was too important, too pivotal. Like a fixed point in time that everyone bowed to while asking for passage... and didn't he just know it.

He projected every negative feeling, every painful memory in a veritable wave of sorrow and anguish. The first time Bill had yelled at her, moving again, saying goodbye to countless friends, cheating on that Maths test, the fa – everything flashed before her eyes, the trickle of shame, the shot of fear – Leslie felt her legs give way in wake of it, the weight crushing her.

"Now! Take the container!" The Dark Master demanded.

"Please don't," Leslie begged, wincing as she struggled over to Alexis, blocking her from harms way. She turned desperately towards Derek. Yes, he could be reasoned with, he wasn't, wasn't like - " You don't have to, you coul-"

He looked at her with those nothing eyes; she forced herself to remain rooted as he spoke. "This is my destiny. You have to learn reality," he said, voice resigned.

"Then you'll have to kill me first!" Leslie yelled, stamping her feet with authority.

"Enough!" Impatient, the Dark Master let loose a terrifyingly blinding white light. Leslie tried to dodge, but she couldn't move, it was heading right for her. It would surely kill her. Black hair with streaks of blue jumped out in front of her, absorbing the impact. There was a sickeningly snap of bones, black hair crumpled to the floor.

"ALEXIS!" Leslie shrieked, rushing to her side. She delicately turned her over, trying to ignore the smell of burnt flesh. She was still breathing, she was all right. She had to be alright!

Alexis' breathing was shallow, her eyes flickered. Leslie grasped her hand tightly, reminiscent of when they'd first met.

"It... was..."

"Alexis, don't speak, just rest, I'll get help – Jess, or Mrs Myers or something, yeah, they'll come - but you just have to..."

Alexis didn't appear to hear her, lost in her own sporadic thoughts. "Always, always, my dream to save a life, now I finally, go- got to." She smiled at her achievement. "Don't let him win, Leslie. Prove him... prove him wrong... tha- thank you."

"A- Alexis? Alexis, come on, ALEXIS!!"

She could feel the cold nothing eyes stare at her back tiredly. "She has been removed."

"No, No, that's not true. It can't be! This isn't supposed to be how it works at all, no, this, this is all wrong!"

Leslie suddenly became aware of the walls relentlessly closing in. The room was no longer limitless, all her imperfections and failures shone through, bared to the world. No, Leslie turned away, shaking Alexis furiously.

"Come on, Alexis, this isn't funny. Come on. Don't leave me, please... Remember, remember your dream, yeah! Your dream! You wanted to be the best doctor in the world. Well, you can't... you can't if you don't wake up. You just have to wake up. Just wake up!"

"What do you feel?" the sickening slimy voice of the Dark Master enquired. Only it wasn't a question, it was a taunt. He already knew, he just wanted her to say it, to shove it into her face.

"Is it pain, sorrow, anguish, anger?" he continued, suddenly growling in disgust, revolted to his very core. "You call this strength? Caring for others. It is weakness... sickness."

Leslie turned desperately to Derek. "Wha- can it be fixed, can I save her... can I... change...t-"

"She fulfilled her destiny," he recited coldly. "Her vessel while now be used to support a real human."

The Dark Master chuckled with a sick pleasure, applauding as every word from Derek weakened her. "Yes, yes. Are you ready to accept your fate? How many more, how many more will die as a result of your refusal to accept your own destiny: death."

Derek frowned, the first genuine expression on his face. "Master, you said-"

"Someone has to control destiny, to decide. How dare you even contemplate of anyone more suitable."

Derek stuttered, feeling his vision cloud. "B- but, you said destiny was uncontrollable? Surely you ca-"

"Uncontrollable for mere mortals, yes, but I am the The Master."

Derek hesitated at his Master's air of finality, to question any further would be folly, so why was he still uncertain? The Master was all knowing, uncertainty shouldn't-

"Kill me..."

Derek turned cautiously at Leslie's tone. She was sitting on the floor, fists strangling clumps of her hair as if she intended to rip it out by the very roots. Her eyes remained locked shot. Derek analysed the peculiar swaying of her fists, up and down as if she were... teasing it, experimenting with the pain. Every tug was rewarded with a dazed, agonised grimace on her face that had nothing to do with the hair pulling.

Derek's eyes narrowed, subconsciously stepping away from his Master in his desire to correct her. "You are not to die today, you know this..."

The prison bars that were her eyelids opened at last, and the indomitable Derek flinched, actually flinched at what he saw in this child's eyes. The blue sea of innocence had made way for dirty black pools of despair and soul wrenching pain. She was like a spirit trapped inside a bloated corpse floating in water, every breath emitting a quiver.

He was frozen with revulsion as she crawled over to him like a crippled animal, leaving trails of tears to mix in with the grime, sweat and blood, another tragedy to tell.

"Kill me... please," she whispered, clinging to his legs almost lovingly, rocking silently as she held him in a death grip, face etched in a silent scream as she muttered soothing nothings to coerce him.

She was begging him, she was begging for death at his feet. He'd seen countless atrocities, countless betrayals, yet they'd all been variations of the same desire, that primal need to survive, to succeed at any cost... and she was begging for it to be all taken away. This was so... wrong.

He felt his Master gloat in triumph as she continued, words limping out of her mouth as if she had no control over them.

"If anyone knows what it's like to be a complete failure, to let everyone down, to make them suffer... it's all my fault, I ruined everything, I spoiled it for everyone jus-"

"No, you did not, it was not your fault, it-"

"You killed your father, you killed your mother... I shouldn't... not there, Jess warned me..."

"No, it wasn't, it was..." he dared to stare into her eyes, to prove that what he was saying was the truth.

And that was when he realised, her eyes, they were like...

_He was back, back as a child, back home. His father sat pensively at his desk, completely absorbed by something that he couldn't quite make out from all the way down on the floor. _

"_What are you looking at, daddy?" he asked curiously, abandoning his ball game for now._

"_Come up, Artemis, take a look," his father said, patting his lap encouragingly. Strangely nervous, he walked over slowly, throat dry. He needed a little help, but he managed to make it to his father's lap. He breathed with an unreal exhaustion before he could stall no longer, he stole a quick glance, and then another one – but..._

"_Who is she?" It was a picture of a women perched confidently on a precarious branch of a tree, blue eyes mysteriously forlorn. He desperately wondered what she was thinking about, agonised over what was troubling her. He scanned the picture for answers._

"_That is your mother, Artemis." _

_His mother? The thought seemed incredibly bizarre. He stared at the photo, waiting for it to become real. It was the first time he'd ever seen his mother. He'd never dared even imagine it, least he insult her memory... _

_He sat there willingly for an eternity, staring at her eyes, her beautiful eyes... it was the moment of his life, it was the last flame of happiness he had ever known, before it had all been extinguished, before his father had went wrong, before it had all been forgotten by... _

_She had blue eyes... he would never forget those big forlorn blue eyes, thinking everything he imagined._

"I don't... I can't... not any more... pain. It hurts... so much. " Leslie fell to the floor, broken and defeated.

Artemis knelt down so their eyes were level, forcing her to look as the words came to him from deep within. "If there's one thing I know about pain: it's temporary. I don't hate you. People hurt each other all the time, but to hate something, no, that is truly difficult."

"Really?" Leslie asked desperately, not daring to hope.

"Really." He patted her shoulder. It felt wonderful, sitting there together... like they weren't alone.

"_I think I understand."_

_Artemis' father shrugged him off in a polite manner. He was a busy man. "Good, I'm pleased."_

_Artemis didn't notice his subtle hint. "Maybe, maybe I'm hurt. Hurt like everyone else."_

"_But, Artemis, you can't..." his father started, concerned._

"_No, I... don't hurt like other people." Artemis held his heart. "I always hurt here."_

_He continued to press against it, finding the words. "It doesn't bleed, but my chest really hurts, it hurts and it doesn't stop, it never stops."_

_His father's face strengthened with resolve, he took one of the broken fragments of glass and cut his finger. Artemis gasped with surprise, not sure what was happening. It began to bleed. He looked away._

"_Look, Artemis," his father's voice was soft but commanding. Artemis looked._

"_Pain like this, this flesh wound. They may bleed and seem painful... but they heal, whether by time or medicine. This, this cannot compare to the pain of the heart. It is the worst pain, no medicine can fix it, time does not stop it... only one thing can, and it is for someone else to give. "_

_Artemis were enraptured, desperate to have the final mystery unveiled so he wouldn't be alone. "What is it, what is it?" he asked urgently._

"_Love."_

_Artemis blinked at him, repeating his words uncomprehending._

_His father continued soothingly, "Yes... love. Love from a person that cares about you, that would do anything for you."_

_I won't hurt any more if I get this, Artemis thought jubilantly. But there was still a pressing question._

"_How- How can I get this, where?" Artemis looked around the room as if it would suddenly pop up and wave at him.  
_

_His father was bewildered before breaking out into a grin. "Why, Artemis... You already have it."_

"_W-what how, I don't see anything." Had he missed it? No, Artemis didn't feel any different, so how did he have it?_

"_Love cannot be seen. It can only be expressed by devoting yourself to someone else – protecting and caring for that person with your life."_

_Artemis lowered his head, that was something he could never have. He voiced your thoughts._

"_That's not true. I believe that your mother loved you. I think," his father paused for a moment. "You remember the story of the 'endless war'?"_

_Artemis nodded._

"_The powers that you have, it has been passed down by our people over the generations. Only a select few can be his weapon."_

_The rhetoric didn't appease Artemis, it angered him. "Why did it have to be me, I don't want it, I don't want to kil-"_

"_I think your mother gave you it." His father's gaze was strong, courageous... everything he wasn't._

"_- Huh, I don't understand?"_

_His father looked at the ceiling, as if silently asking for inspiration. "I think these powers you have... I think your mother gave them to you, to protect you. I think she believed that you could do something great. These powers, they automatically protect you."_

"_Something... great?" Artemis repeated in a daze.  
_

"_I think that was her last wish," he said with longing. "For you to be protected, protected through love. I believe that a mother's love is the strongest love, and that her love is your power. It's a nice thought, don't you think? She is still protecting you, even after death. Always."_

_His father sounded upset despite his words, it made Artemis sad. "I wish she wasn't... I wish I could've meet her."_

"_Your mother... had... faith in you, as I do."_

"You!" And then it all came flooding back in the searing clarity of truth. His father's death. The strange murder in the forest. Mirak.

"I did not give-"

"It was you! You did this!"

The Dark Master looked momentarily stunned, unfamiliar with the concept of being interrupted. He had predicted this would come eventually of course, although the foresight didn't make it any less galling.

"You have lost your right mind," The Master started, deep bass thundering with every syllable as he channelled his authority and produced ripples of pure energy. "You fool!"

Artemis momentarily gasped in shock, feeling as if he'd just contracted restless leg syndrome. It was as if reality was a fabric that the Dark Master manipulated; twisting, turning and stretching, bound to his will... no! That couldn't be true! He wasn't infallible, he-

Artemis puffed out his chest, bulldozing through the display. "My mother has faith in me, she believes in me – you're wrong!

"I know everything," the Dark Master said quietly, an air of finality in his confident smirk.

"No, no you don't!" Artemis said desperately. "You could never understand it, never..." Artemis trailed off, feeling dizzy as his head screamed. What was it? What couldn't he understand. It was on the tip of his tongue, right on the precipice, taunting him... what... what? What!

The Dark Master approached methodically, practically gliding in the ever growing storm as if the end result was all so axiomatic. Artemis watched him march over ominously, feeling as if every inch was a stab to his... yes, Artemis' eyes glowed with recognition as his hands stumbled towards his chest.

"The pain.... in my heart," he whispered, barely managing to set the words free, tongue suddenly thick and foreign as his throat clotted.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

The words failed to reach Artemis' ears as he navigated fervently for it, where... was it even still there? He needed to find it! Artemis felt his lungs protest loudly, straining with every nuance as it clawed for air, he needed...

And there it was... something that was always there, never asking to be thanked, the ultimate treasure. Artemis let the tears fall. What he felt... no words were worthy... not even the grandest ancient dialects of Terabithians' finest were adequate to describe it, the vacuity being filled with such...

It felt... like coming home, to a place he'd never seen. His mother was there, and his father. The peace, the joy... he would never feel like this again, never... Like having every avaricious desire granted. Artemis clutched it comfortingly, like a mother nursing her child back to full health. He envied those who would make this discovery in the future. He envied them with all his heart.

"You'll never understand love," he said, words rolling off his tongue candidly. "Never! You'll never know it! It was you who forced Mirak to do that terrible thing! You hurt that man in the woods, I saw! You did all of this! You hurt my dad... you... you hurt my mum!"

The Dark Master yawned, malignant stare beating loudly as he continued his relentless approach, seeming to enjoy taking as long as he pleased, making everyone wait for his move. "Necessary sacrifices, besides, you were so gullible I could-"

Artemis shook his head violently, disgust permeating him. "All because you wanted to destroy Terabithia, all because you wanted your own kingdom - to control everyone under this stupid rhetoric about destiny - why? You - you've been the one controlling it all along, you! You used me! Why? Why!"

The Dark Master snorted derisively, disposition unrepentant as his head remained high. "I'm The Master, I have that right."

"That ends, right now!"

The Dark Master simple shook his head with nonchalance, smirking with the ease of a practised killer. Artemis frowned, teeth clenching at the arrogance. _I can do it, I can do it_ – Artemis repeated the mantra in his head as he tensed, feet curling. "Now!"

* * *

I'll post the last chapter over the weekend. I just have to survive my birthday first *slithers away from keyboard before family notices*


	6. Now Bring Back the Sun

Chapter Six

Now Bring Back the Sun

"How do you justify the unjustifiable?"

_Without friends no one would choose to live, though they had all other goods.

* * *

_

The Dark Master chuckled with an icy mocking as he dodged Artemis' instinctual blow, slithering to the right.

Gritting his teeth, Artemis tried again, aiming a calculated fist into the Master's abdomen. His reward was once again laughter as the Dark Master effortlessly dodged, eyes filled with delight as Artemis stumbled in surprise, uncertainty enveloping his face like a disease.

"You will die," the Dark Master said in an all too matter-of-fact manner.

The words pierced Artemis further than any blade conceivable. The Dark Master didn't even have the decency to be at least a little agitated at the confrontation... he was merely humouring him...

Artemis' tense eyes met the leisurely smirk of his opponent; he couldn't help but feel his shoulders crumple in defeat at the display. Artemis closed his eyes deathly tight as the Dark Master twisted faintly, movement barely registering visually as he prepared for the worst.

"Now!" the Dark Master mimicked, eyes lighting up with malice no longer suppressed; a sinister smile escaping his lips. Artemis had failed again...

Even behind closed eyelids, Artemis could still feel the unnatural light approaching. He could still feel both his grip on reality and his feet falter. And then the pain... a sensation he'd never been formally introduced to. It began as a mixture of his own screams and the Dark Master's rapturous cackling.

Artemis was sure he heard a crack as his skull connected with the floor. Then the blood, the _blood_... thickly gushing out of him in a dark stream that would guarantee his passing. He coughed in revulsion as the treacherous red liquid trickled into his mouth, poisoning him.

It was like being burned from the inside - Artemis flung his arms wildly in a pathetic attempt to put it out, to make it stop. An acrid red quickly blinded him, whether from his own blood or one of the Master's mysterious weapons he didn't care; he was lost.

The Dark Master's satanic laugh seemed to only grow, the pain increasing in tandem. No, Artemis thought desperately, trying to drown out the humiliation. His hands knotted into fists as he groped around in his own blood, the vile red staining them forevermore.

In reality it was he who was drowning in a sea of his own torturous penance, his endless failure. He writhed, twisted, scraped, snarled, crawled... for anything, a way out, the end, anything. It felt like his very body was being forcibly shut down, one painful heartbeat at a time. He felt his mind drift...

"_She did not wish for your birth, she was selected for this task. You are illegitimate, a scar on the families' name. That is my scar, that is my pain that won't heal, Artemis. You were born out of hate. I wish you would die, why can't you just die?"_

"_No, no, no, no!" You repeated it over and over again, trying desperately to drown out the hurtful words.  
_

"_You were born as a weapon, Artemis. That is all you are, all you'll ever be. People don't change, they just get tired. Your destiny... it has been set out in front of you from the very beginning."_

_It was painful for him to speak, but he wanted to leave one last message. "Artemis, I... hate... you." And then he was dead. Gone forever. And then you were alone. Forever._

_You wept and wailed into his shirt, now covered with blood. You thought you heard him speak again, but it was footsteps coming from afar. You didn't look up, still clinging to the last shreds of your father's warmth, savouring it, bottling it up._

"_Do you feel pain?" the voice asked. It wasn't an olive branch, it was death. You continued weeping into your father's shirt. Your dead father. Your dead mother. Alone._

No, Artemis tried to protest as the memory bombarded him, trying desperately to force it out in anyway possible. Words failed him as he gave an indecipherable cry. This couldn't happen, he couldn't just die like this! Not after everything he'd been through, this was so... so...

Artemis gritted his teeth even harder, feeling them crumple under the strain as blood now began pouring from every crevice. No! If he could just, just give everything - everything - he could break the spell, stop the pain - he knew it!

Artemis felt every sinew and muscle strain under protest but still he pressed, gathering it all up, everything. His fears, frustrations, failures... his shame. The pain that had been locked away... by himself?

"No!" Artemis shouted with an ardent ferocity that he could not contain any longer. A stream of raw anger rocketed from his fist, spiralling headlong in the direction of his most fearsome foe. The man, no, the monster who had taken everything from him.

Artemis' eyes narrowed as he braced for impact. Come on! He was heading right for him, there was no way he cou-

Artemis had just enough wherewithal to gasp as his fist met nothing but the floor. Wha the? Artemis twisted his battered limbs, eyes scanning fervently. The Master had been right there - where was he?

All that was left to indicate that the Dark Master had even graced their presence was a gentle mist traversing through a cold breeze. Artemis frantically grasped it in his hands, trying to snuff it out, a sharp pain in his side protesting valiantly with every move.

He winced, letting out a guttural moan from the depths of his soul as his weary body begged for the floor. Artemis collapsed fully onto it, limbs placid and mind lucid as the cold unforgiving stone pressed against his face.

Was that... it? No, it couldn't... His eyes fixed on the visceral mist floating sensually, spanning out into smaller, more delicate shapes in the dying breeze. Was this truly the Dark Master? Behind the mask... nothing more than an illusion?

He remembered something his father had said, back home. Something about bottling up bad feelings, something about them coming back to haunt you. Maybe? Or maybe this was really purgatory, maybe the Master had pushed him beyond the threshold of pain, breaking him completely.

Artemis watched as the divine grey mist began to lose its colour, releasing itself to the breeze as it become one.

Maybe...

And then like a classic storytelling trope, Artemis stumbled on the epiphany as if by chance, opening his eyes to the reality he deserved.

The Master... was he really just an illusion? A manifestation of everyone's fear, of the shame that they tried desperately to hide...

It had to go somewhere – didn't it? Maybe, just maybe it went to him, maybe it became him. As Artemis felt the darkness take him he made a promise, a vow: he would hide no longer...

***************************************************************

Leslie groaned as she lifted her aching head, cursing herself for fainting at the most inappropriate moments. She'd been doing that more and more frequently as of late, and she really didn't want to give her parents ammunition...

"Judy," she said cautiously, hoping that Jess wasn't around to see her like this, now that had been embarrassing! Leslie blushed begrudgingly as she focused her gaze on the desk- wait, Leslie gasped as her surroundings returned, memories of Alexis, Artemis and the Dark Master striking with a vengeance. Of course, that's what she was doing, how could she forget that? Leslie shook her head with exasperation, rubbing her brow tiredly.

"Hello," Leslie called experimentally as she returned to her game face; she wondered just what could possibly happen next. The hair on the back of her neck jolted her as an agonised moan reached her ears. Leslie felt a familiar twinge in her heart as she thought of Alexis. Could it be?

She turned hopefully - for that one wonderful moment she had hope. It was dashed, however, her friend was dead, it was the boy with the stolen face that had survived: Artemis. She couldn't even stomach looking at him for too long, turning away with disappointment.

For a brief second, a selfish rage filled her. Why did this freak have to survive? Why couldn't it be her friend? Hers! It wasn't fair, nothing was, Leslie decided spontaneously. Either who lived and who died was up to someone to control callously, or life was completely merciless, killing indiscriminately whenever and wherever without reason or justification, toying with people, dangling a carrot of hope in front of them before cruelly snatching it away at random.

Leslie felt something catch in her throat as she digested, rejecting each option with equal distaste. How could she justify the unjustifiable? Leslie rubbed her brow tiredly as a voice that had long since left this plane echoed in her mind, 'destiny'.

"Where am I?" Someone asked from where Artemis was, startling her. She frowned, it was a boy's voice... about her age she decided. She turned cautiously to inspect, eyes narrowing. It wasn't Artemis, she knew that much - the tone was too... emotional for him.

Leslie walked over to the sound, connecting it to a body that was gasping and dying. She was surprised to find that there was only one body instead of two...

Leslie frowned... it looked like Artemis but... it just... wasn't, definitely not.

Her eyes feel on a morbidly deep slash in the boy's belly. His clawing hands desperately cradling the blood welling out of the wound. His eyes were filled with disbelief, like it wasn't really his own bloated insides slipping between his fingers, though the underlying terror in his eyes tattled of the fact that he was painfully aware of it.

His face was stiff and unpleasant thanks to the effects of Cerebral Palsy. Leslie frowned, feeling a familiar tightness in her stomach that she always got when she felt she'd forgotten something important. The perfectly normal brown eyes were incongruous to the otherwise battered face, staring up at her with desperation, focusing on her face with a sudden comprehension.

"Please... help... " the voice whined.

The voice was pathetic, she decided. He didn't deserve her pity, it was a commodity that had to be earned, not one that someone killed to receive. Leslie ignored the nagging voice in her head that argued the boy couldn't possibly be Artemis, or that it hadn't even been his fault. She needed... something... someone to... blame, to make it all make sense?

Leslie suddenly nodded her head, mind set. This monster had hurt Alexis and now he expected sympathy? Leslie snorted derisively. She turned to leave, ignoring the grating voice in her mind.

_Your turning into what you say you detest – us!_

"I can't stop it - Mummy? I didn't mean-" The voice trailed off with uncertainty.

Leslie kept walking. How cliched, now the poor baby was begging for his mother - puh.

"Mummy?" the voice whispered, breathing now turning into strained little wheezes.

Leslie stopped involuntary, confused and conflicted. On a precipice, a monumental event. The choice. She remembered that that face didn't belong to Artemis, he had stolen it from... what was his name again? David? The boy with the diary, the boy who'd had to change his name and run away from his father, whose mother tri- Leslie shook her head, it didn't matter, it-

"Mu...mmy..." The voice begged again.

Leslie turned ever so slightly. "I'm not..."

The boy seemed to find a new vigour at the sound of her voice. "Please, don't leave me on my own again, Mummy. I'm sorry – I know I'm no good, I"ll be better, I'll try. " He grasped wildly in the air, seeking an intangible reassurance. Leslie stared into the boy's unseeing eyes.

"I'm not your mother."

The boy shook his head obstinately, refusing to listen to reason. "Please, Mummy... it - it hurts!"

Leslie sighed as his moans grew louder, swallowing her irritation. "I'm here," she said after a moment, keeping her face stoic and unreadable as she stood over him.

"... Will you stay?" he asked hopefully. Leslie looked on with ambivalence before he started twisting his neck just to stay conscious, giving a whimper with every strain. Leslie wondered how long he could keep it up. The sight of him struggling, of him fighting against the odds so hard... it stirred something within her.

"... Yes, I'll never leave you... I never did." Leslie had no trouble keeping her voice steady and contrite, shoulders tensed as if she'd been preparing for this for a long time. If she could just talk to him for a little while, maybe then he would just... go away.

The boy seemed immensely satisfied as the pain left his face, colour momentarily reappearing as he held her hand, blood mingling in their joint grasp.

"Good." He rested his head on her lap, sighing contently. Memories of cold winter nights where only the warmth of his mother's consoling arms had battled the cold and malevolent bite of several bitter nights comforted him. It had been enough, it had been more than enough.

"Mummy?" he asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer. "Is Daddy still mad at me... I don't like it when he's mad."

"He can't hurt you any more," she said it with such tenderness that he wanted to weep. As the wave of protection and assurance wrapped around him, he felt like he could tell her anything, everything.

"I met a girl today." His voice was dreamlike, soft, with a hidden undercurrent of regret. His mother made a soothing noise in her throat, urging him to continue, but at the same time giving him the opportunity to stop if he was uncomfortable in the way only his _mother _could. His heart grew stronger even if his breaths grew more and more sporadic.

"Her name is Alexis - I heard her talking to the sick kid at break time. Oh, she was perfect; smart, beautiful, funny."

He didn't noticed his mother twitch at his words.

"Did you speak to her?" his mother said naturally after a time, no hint of judgement or accusation. She didn't need to judge, she was infinitely wise. Still, he shuddered, he didn't register the pain in his body any more, only his heart.

"I wanted... but I couldn't."

"Why not?" His mother said patiently, even though she knew.

He sat up, ignoring his bodies protests, summoning up all his strength and confronting the darkness that clouded his vision. Why not? he asked, suddenly demanding, no longer ambivalent to life.

The darkness grew as if in response, turning into a thunderous cloud. Maybe he was alone, maybe this was his fate, his curse, his penance. Twelve years of frustration came seeping out like a sieve. All the hurt, all the anger, all the torment, now unveiled for the world to see.

"I'm wrong, I'm sick, I'm a, a freak. It's my fault I look like this, I deserve this. I'm, I'm.... This, this is me, this face," Despite the darkness blinding him he managed to find his mother, forcing her to look at him. Making her see his face, his shame. Make her run away again.

"I won't change," he whispered with resignation, uttering the horrible truth that no one was supposed to mention. "If I had ever talked to her, if I had ever tried, she would have ran away... like the others. I'm a monster. I'm just... ugly." He didn't just mean his appearance either.

His mother stared directly at him, unperturbed, grazing his face lightly with her numb; the face permanently marked through no fault of his own. She studied his scarred cheeks, scarred with forgotten tears that spelled no compassion, only more pain.

"I'm not running away." It was a statement, but also a challenge to his tirade, a question, a flaw. He couldn't respond, so his mother continued,

"You can't expect people to not run away... if you don't stop running away from yourself first..."

He gulped loudly, blood piling in his throat temporarily forgotten as he pressed forward hungrily.

"Do you, do you think I'll ever see her again, do you think I'll get a second chance?" His tone wasn't even hopeful. He couldn't bare the truth but still there was a voice in his mind that goaded, that urged and pushed him on to need to know. That was so human.

His mother stayed silent for a long time, as if she were testing his convictions. I won't run away anymore, he thought with a determination wrought from twelve years of pain. He needed to know, he needed...

His body was nearly spent now but in his mother's arms he didn't feel afraid of the unknown... he was invincible.

"Yes, you'll see her again, I'm sure. And she won't run."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, eyes beginning to close.

"Certain."

He didn't need to respond, he knew his mother knew everything, she would never leave him, would she?

"Will...". He closed his eyes for a long time, resembling a peaceful statue as he tried to catch that increasingly elusive breath; coaxing his pained throat into action. "Will I see... _you_... again?"

His mother smiled wistfully, although her eyes were hard. "I don't know."

"Maybe, maybe we could all live together one day... _Everyone..._ to-gether... happy... every-one..." His last breath left him, his soul leaving for the next journey, his face set in a lasting promise: never run away. His mother kissed his forehead tenderly, the first and last time his skin was touched so softly.

Leslie sat up and left, never once looking back. The words of the boy burned her to the very core - she knew now that she didn't have the answers, that she probably would never have them. Was there a point to all of this? Would they all see each other again?

Still, Leslie nodded resolutely, she would do what Alexis had asked, her dying wish, she would prove them wrong, everyday of her life. There was nothing else for it.

************************************************************

"Guess I'm all alone... again..." Leslie sighed, feeling a familiar stab of pain in her head. She was well outside the school now, down a path she'd traversed so many times before. A few minor characters had called her name from afar but she had no interest in repeated lectures.

So Leslie simply trudged on, eyes focused on the ground least the sun irritate her eyes and make them water, she hated when that happened. She pushed her hands into her pockets huffily, pulling her leg back to pulverise a stone int-

"Leslie!"

Leslie's head shot up in amazement as she abandoned the stone. Joy turned to horror as she gasped, right hand clamping on her mouth in fear.

"P.T!" she screamed, practically wheeling over at lightening speed. Her faithful companion was struggling in the death grip of what she instantly recognised as one of the Dark Master's minions.

Leslie's eyes narrowed as she halted, assessing the situation. The area was crowded with children and adults who seemed dangerously unaware of the peril they were in. The monster was relentless, throwing grass and dirt at the innocent bystanders while strangling P.T as if he were just some nondescript doll – Leslie growled with incandescent rage, planning an impromptu obituary free of charge.

Right, okay. Leslie pushed the hair from her eyes, mind spinning. She remembered Artemis' memories, of practically living them, that strange sensation he got in his stomach, if she could just-

"Stop this!" Leslie yelled as she unleashed a furious kick to the monster's temple. His grip on P.T loosened, Leslie licked her lips, there! She grabbed P.T, rushing away while blocking out his whimpers with soothing words.

"It's okay, P.T – don't worry, I'm here..."

"Hey, you!" Leslie turned in horror. It was the Dark Master, he was back already. Her deadliest foe crouched over his fallen minion, surveying the damage.

"This is the last straw, you infidel! You cannot continue to hurt my followers, now I will deal with you!"

Leslie took a deep breath, refusing to back down as the Dark Master grabbed her roughly by the arm, dragging her forwards towards his waiting fist. He seemed to falter as she closed her eyes, thinking better of risking further humiliation on her terms. He gathered up his fallen minion, scowling as he growled. "This is the last time, seriously, I mean it this time..."

Leslie just stared after the fallen pair, blinking several times before shrugging and turning towards P.T.

"I thought you were dead!" Leslie muttered accusingly, but her relieved, breathless smile betrayed her true feelings.

"Huh!" P.T huffed derisively, erect posture conveying his foul mood. "I'd thought you'd forgotten about me! That awful boy just left me here, dazed and confused like a – oh, I have a right mind to-"

"I knew he wouldn't do it." Leslie beamed, a familiar fire bristling in her blue eyes for just a second before fading once again.

"Uh-hum, I think we have more important matters to attend to..." P.T looked at her pointedly, turning to showcase his ruffled fur, his beautiful white coat desecrated by detestable dirt and ugh, P.T turned away vehemently, deliberately giving her the cold shoulder. The mess, this would take forever to salvage!

Leslie pouted exaggeratedly, puffing out her bottom lip. "Oh, come on! You can't stay mad at me for long..." There was a hint of a challenge in her voice and P.T snorted with belligerence.

"I am quite capable of -"

P.T was stopped in his tracks by Leslie bending down and scratching the back of his neck with lethal accuracy, just the way he liked it.

P.T eyed her up with a face that had become lined and haggard due to his ordeal, trying to maintain an air of respectability by not turning to mush under her majestic fing... oh, that was...

"Lesli... aahhhh," P.T moaned in pleasure, tail wagging in delirium as she continued her assault. "Sto-"

Ah, forget it, P.T thought recklessly as he allowed himself to succumb to ecstasy.

"Leslie, right there... ah, a litter higher, yes... just... ahhhhh..."

*************************************************

"Do you think... we'll ever... see her again?"

P.T looked at Leslie with guarded eyes as they rolled on home, searching for answers, suggesting he was conversing with a dangerous animal rather than his master. "I'd like to think so... yes, I'd like to think so."

"And the Dark Master...?" Leslie asked cautiously, eyes fixed in front of her.

P.T sighed deeply as he plodded along, tone pragmatic. "Most likely..."

Leslie nodded ever so slightly, even her gait morose. "I... mi- kinda miss her, Alexis, I mean, well, even he wasn't so bad in the end either – I guess."

P.T nodded silently, knowing words were insufficient. He noticed Leslie spying on him from the corner of her eye.

"I wonder if it'll ever be over..." Leslie tried experimentally, fidgeting nervously.

"It will. " P.T urged, nodding. "One day."

They continued walking the perennial path, faces apathetic to the comfortable silence that was to last until the the introduction of a welcome face, lifting the oppressive melancholy.

"Leslie, you're late, Miss Hypnos is just leaving." The eminent figure of Old Barker projected an aura of bubbly excitement as he motioned her over with a welcoming smile.

Leslie blinked, shaking herself out of the subconscious daze she'd been in. Had she really walked that far already?

"Sage, this is Leslie and her little friend, P.T." Old Barker mouthed something to his friend and she nodded in understanding, performing an elongated bow that looked well practised.

"Hi!" Leslie said excitedly, waving animatedly in response. She always relished the chance to meet new friends.

Old Barker snorted at the innocent enthusiasm, eyes warm. "We're still not quite sure what to do with the puppies, kid, although I'm sure we'll think of something, don't you worry your little head."

Leslie's face jumped from bewilderment to sudden understanding. "Oh yeah, of course, don't worry, I'll fix something up, just you wait!" Leslie pumped her fist determinedly, causing Miss Hypnos to smile serenely.

"I hear that you have a desire to hear your fortune, young one?" Miss Hypnos asked politely, voice somewhat dreamlike as she moved her long arms in supercilious circles, making Leslie momentarily dizzy as she tried to follow.

Leslie rubbed her chin thoughtfully, feeling P.T lightly nudge her side. "Nah, sorry, I don't believe in destiny, although with that being said..." Leslie trailed off as she readjusted herself, turning the courteous expression of Miss Hypnos into a frown of confusion. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely couple."

"You little...!" Old Barker yelled playfully, animatedly waving his arms in annoyance.

Leslie made sure to get out of Old Barker's throwing range before finishing. She laughed merrily at Old Barker's numerous loud curses involving her and his nine boot; Miss Hypnos' expression of shock and confusion was equally amusing. The perfect couple, Leslie thought as Old Barker narrowly missed with a long throw of his boot, foaming at the mouth. Perfect!

"Leslie!" P.T yelled reproachingly in a very familiar way as she giggled. Leslie brushed him off as they continued home, grin lingering on her lips before widening still as she spotted another friendly figure on the horizon.

"Jess!" Leslie called excitably, waving madly in joy at the reunion with her oldest friend.

Jess stopped robotically in mid-step, turning round cautiously and then sighing, urging her to come over quickly with hurry-up gestures. Leslie hurried over as quickly as her arms would allow.

"I didn't see you after break, where were you?" Leslie inquired jovially, almost falling on Jess as she playfully leered at him, although her eyes where somewhat empty.

"I was in class..." Jess' stance was rigid and uncomfortable, breathing hoarse as if he couldn't quite relax.

"Oh, right..." Leslie started, voice now oddly quiet as she changed the subject to more pressing matters. "I thought... maybe... you might want to go to Terabithia... or something..." Leslie trailed off indecisively, voice almost sad for some reason.

"I – I would but – I'm sort of caught up in something and..." Jess' eyes refused to meet Leslie. She shrank back a little without thinking, placing her hands in front of her. She felt cold and sick and...

"Leslie," Jess said uncertainly. He turned away from her completely, eyes closed as he muttered something to himself. Leslie watched with inexplicable fear as he sighed deeply, face turning back towards her even if his eyes still hid. "I can't do this... not any more."

"Oh," Leslie replied dumbly, nervously fidgeting with her top. "Wha-?" Leslie shook her head, annoyed at how her voice seemed to be not functioning properly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, ringing a nervous hand through his hair. "But I can't be your friend any more."

"Is it because I like that girl too?" Leslie's voice was surprisingly steady before a irrepressible urgency jolted her heart. "Because if it is – don't worry, I can change, I can stop it, because-"

"You can't."

"Why!?!" Leslie demanded angrily. It was as if something had suddenly been unlocked after an eternity. Leslie's face set in resolution and her eyes blazed with ardent indignation. Why couldn't she do anything? Why?

"Because that girl doesn't exist, none of it bloody exists!" Jess' voice contained a different, older anger. He lifted his eyes to Leslie's. They were cold and hard with intensity, as if this was something he'd been psyching himself up to say for a long time.

"You're doing it again, Leslie... You always start up every couple of weeks, the same old bloody story. Alexis, Artemis, the Dark Master – that Derek person you moan about in your sleep, the stupid super powers and worlds you fight in... it does not exist! I'm it, Leslie!"

Jess' raised his arms to emphasis their continued joint solitude, every movement tinged with an unbearable sadness. Leslie flinched as his eyes reddened. "I'm all that's left, your only – your last friend. I don't – I can't do this any more."

Jess' eyes were almost pleading, Leslie felt tears in her own, closing them deathly tight to block it all out. No, no – this was all wrong. "Why? Why can't you? I thought you, I thought you..." Leslie whimpered, hands cradling her face.

"You're different now. This, this isn't the real Leslie, you changed, you – the Leslie I knew, she was, she was funny and wise and, and powerful and... your eyes, they were like fire, like the sun, yeah, like a big constellation, always shining - I believed in those eyes, I, I miss th- now it's just, now you see things, you say things, you talk to people who aren't there." Jess spat out his words in a rush, as if he'd kept them starved under lock and key. He took a deep breath before releasing again.

"Do you know how that made me feel? No, how it still makes me feel – Leslie, look at me!" Jess demanded, but Leslie refused to open her eyes, clinging to P.T tightly for warmth.

Jess sighed, having long ago submitted to resignation. "You're a – were a smart girl, Leslie. Incredibly smart, brilliant even. I watched you do stunt after crazy stunt like some mad genius with this crazy, unbelievable plan that only you knew of – but you were doing it as well! You were saving Lark Creek like you promised and... and now you can't even be bothered to stay awake in class. Now you can't even focus on one thing for more than a couple of minutes, now you embarrass everyone, you embarrass me. Why did you have to do that! You knew it was dangerous, you knew you could've got hurt! You're so... so stupid!"

"Sorry," Leslie started quietly, but it wasn't loud enough for him to hear.

"And now you're getting worse, the doctors... but you kept on fighting and now, now you can't even..." Jess' eyes narrowed as he noticed something on her arm.

"You nearly got beaten up by Mr Wilson last week after you messed with his son, you've got a nice bruise on your arm so I guess you're still beating up kids – for god's sake Leslie, snap out of it! If you can't go back, if you can't be my old friend... I don't want this Leslie Burke! Hell, everyone else won't even have anything to do with me until I stop talking to you. I'm not like you, I don't want to be alone like that – I hate that! You're not the friend you were, you're not the friend I knew. I'm sorry... but it's not real, none of it is."

"Oh," was all Leslie could think of to say, while continuing to stroke P.T - wait, that was it, P.T!

"But - but- ! Talk to P.T! Ask P.T! Come on, P.T, you tell him -"

Leslie's eyes widened expectantly as her face broke out into a grin, triumphant again.

"Leslie." Jess shook his head, too tired to be angry any more. "P.T's gone, he fell... that's just a doll, I told Old Barker to stop encouraging you, that id-"

"He's not gone," Leslie whined, defensively. "He's real!" She clung to P.T as if he were an extension of herself, willing him to talk, to save the day. She'd had to rely on him more and more in recent months in Jess' absence, the dog that had help show her a whole new world, a beautiful world, free from the morbid stares and muffled laughter. He'd never wavered, never hesitated... never left her alon-

Leslie gasped as P.T was stolen from her embrace.

"See, look, Leslie!" Jess' eyes were sparkling with madness as he reached breaking point. "It's just material and stuffing, I bought May Belle one as well, to cheer both of you up after what happened." Jess scowled in disgust as he twisted the doll in his grasp, eyes distant as he tried to take vengeance on something that was forever intangible.

He looked at Leslie, just glanced, silently hoping – he was dismayed at what he found. "You don't even remember, do you!"

Leslie felt tears burn her skin. She tried to get him to stop, but she was too afraid, too weak. She could never stop him. Leslie's shoulders sagged as her heart shuddered with every twist of her most faithful companion's neck.

"He's all I've got," Leslie whispered, lifting her arms hopelessly. "You never come to see me. I was lonely, and you never came. And I still am, and there's no one an-"

She fell silent, aware of someone else at her back. Alexis' cool hands rested on her shoulder, and she looked up into her smiling face.

"You'll always have us, Leslie, always." Alexis winked reassuringly, patting Leslie's back to cheer her up in much the same manner as Leslie had done for her.

"Us?" Leslie asked quizzically.

"Correct," Artemis said from Leslie's other side. The girl spun round, shocked. Artemis snorted with bemusement. "I have no time for something as fleeting as death.."

"You know that was pretty weird... having you inside me," Derek offered absently as he appeared beside Artemis, leaning on his shoulder slightly.

Artemis frowned, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. "I encourage you not to get any ideas, once was unpleasant enough."

Leslie smiled with contentment, face returning to its natural warmth at the sight of her new friends. The perfec-

"See! This is what I mean, this is it, what you do!" Jess cried in disbelief, looking like he wanted to pull his hair out. "You can see something, you see it and go somewhere else! Your mum said..." Jess trailed off as he shook his head angrily, face a battlefield for confliction.

Leslie's ears perked as the dream was shattered. "What did Judy tell you?" she asked, realising that Jess was now back to shifting uncomfortably.

Jess' eyes looked away. "I said... I promised... I promised I wouldn't tell... no matter-"

Leslie felt something drop in her stomach, fingers tingling as if she was on the verge of a great discovery that had alluded all before her. "Tell me! Please! Jess. I'll be good – just please tell me!" Her voice was hysterically, cracking into pathetic tremors as she screamed recklessly. Leslie finally noticed his horrified expression and lowered her head in shame, remembering just who she was talking to.

"I'm sorry, Jess," she said sincerely, desperately hoping he would stop shaking. "It's just, is it something I should know?" Her voice was incongruously calm, as though all this had happened to someone else instead, as though she were perfectly all right again.

Jess couldn't help it, he looked... and it nearly killed him. He threw his hands to his forehead, soothing his aching headache. She looked at him with such... trust, after everything she'd been through and she still... Jess pinched the bridge of his nose, not daring to look at her again. Her expression had been so serene, so tranquil, it had been like... home, like Leslie Burke.

"Leslie," he started suddenly, rushing over to her as if he was begging for absolution. He grabbed her shoulders just to keep standing as he recited the deepest, darkest depths of his soul. "The accident... I couldn't... I wasn't... it... you... I."

After a moment he reluctantly disengaged his hold, wiping his eyes surreptitiously as his shoulders took on a rigid posture that was uncomfortable to even look at, turning away from her again. Leslie felt herself become weighed down by an inexplicable guilt as she watched Jess unravel before her, back shivering as he sniffed.

She clenched her fists determinedly, she would help, she wouldn't let him hurt like this, she would fix it!

"Jess? Please... don't cry... what's wrong? Tell me, come on, I'm Leslie Burke!" Leslie poked her chest confidently, trying doggedly to reassure him.

"Come on, tell me so I can - " So I can what? Leslie thought suddenly with a savage bitterness. So she could know? So she could comfort her friend? So she could try to keep her friend? So she could understand why her friends had all left her, why even now Jess was leaving her, why she was so alone all the time? Why did she want to know so desperately? Perhaps it was better not to know? To live in bliss. In a world where superheroes fought evil monsters, and the heroes always won. Where young girls could fly without worrying about the landing, without worrying about not being put back together quite right.

Leslie suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her hand, reaching for Jess', paused, hesitated, and then Jess sucked in a breath, drew himself upright, and turned back.

"Puh, what am I saying?" Jess said with a self-deprecating smile as he tapped his head lightly, trying obstinately to pretend that his eyes weren't overflowing with tears. "Leslie," he started, looking deep into her eyes unashamedly, as if this were some sort of examination. "You're my oldest friend... you're my best friend. I could never leave you. Never! We'll always be friends, we'll always have Terabithia. I won't let anything tear us apart. Nothing – nothing! - crushes... crushes us."

Jess noticed Leslie's wanton hand growing limp in the air. He reached for it resolutely, gripping it tightly in his own and stroking it softly, returning it to its former glory.

"Come on, Leslie," he said spontaneously, just the way she liked. Jess stepped around behind his friend's wheelchair and took the handles with an unbreakable grip. "I'll push you."

"But... what about... what about your new... friends?" Leslie's eyes were downcast as if prematurely accepting an imminent defeat.

"Gah, they're a bit boring anyway, don't ya think? Now come on, Bill and Judy are probably worried. I'll take you home."

Leslie twisted her fingers shyly, muttering some indecipherable nothings under her breath.

"Sorry, Leslie?"

"Erm, well, if you're not busy... I though... maybe... you might want to, to..." Leslie took a deep breath before spluttering out the rest, "to play with me in Terabithia.... like we used to do?"

Leslie's heart stopped as she waited anxiously for Jess' reply, she didn't dare turn round as he continued pushing her.

"Sure, that'd be fun, whadda you say, P.T?" Jess lowered the doll delicately into Leslie's lap and she clung to it gratefully, face erupting into a trademark grin as her eyes glowed like the deepest reaches of the sun.

"I could think of no better destiny in all of time and space."

"Oh, lord," Jess said, unveiling the catchphrase with his now trademark snark.

"What is it, Jess?" Leslie asked, confused at the bizarre interruption to the poignant moment.

"Sorry... thought I'd better say it in advance – save my breath and all that."

And with that, Jess pushed his oldest, dearest friend, the friend he had been told would be dead in a matter of weeks thanks to continuing injuries in her brain, home. To Terabithia.

Jess shook his head as he continued to push silently. There was one fatal flaw in the various doctors' prognosis'... they didn't know Leslie Burke. They would never know... not at all.

And they spent the rest of that otherwise transitory, fickle and forgotten afternoon fighting trolls, demons and anything else that came to mind as they hadn't in years.

* * *

_The mystery's gone  
So bring back the sun  
We'll bury this hate  
And build it with love_

* * *

_The friendship that can cease has never been real.

* * *

_

Author's notes:

Sorry that took a little longer than planned. My Archos' disk fragmented last week and I had to format it. Unfortunately that meant having to restore over 30,000 songs that had gathered over the years - and that's not even mentioning the hundreds of videos!

Well all that's left is a short little epilogue to tie up some loose ends and then this is finished. Oh, and the whole 'Leslie in a wheelchair with a brain injury' thing wasn't something I just thought of now. Hell, Jess even says something like 'nice wheels' to Leslie in the first chapter. To fully appreciate this story you really need to read it twice, everything takes on different meanings; Mrs Myers' conversation, Wonday Kay, Alexis, the story of an evil entity controlling a body and making it malfunction. There's also a few references to other works in the first chapter that are relevant.

The Return of the Soldier, a novel by Rebecca West

All the Madmen, a song by David Bowie

I've tried to make connections between the real world and Leslie's fictitious invention to cope with the guilt (kill me) of making everyone suffer through her debilitating injuries. Like Judy's mutterings in the first chapter about bottling up emotions being Leslie's inspiration for the Dark Master.

The whole story of Artemis was basically a device to let Leslie's imagination reach new levels as she became completely immersed in the poisoned chalice: Terabithia. Artemis' story is basically Leslie's in a more grandiose, classical narrative with the goodies triumphing in the end (the whole triumph over trials theme). It allows Leslie to play the forgiver, telling herself (Derek, David - whatever her forgetful mind thinks of) basically that it's alright. I know that Artemis didn't even really kill Alexis, but at the time Leslie needed someone to blame, to take out her frustrations on.

The description of the room in chapter five is also straight out of Leslie's past experiences, as well as the constant 'she decided' or P.T looking at Leslie (waiting for confirmation).

Oh, and finally, I'm pretty sure that I never described Leslie as walking, at least not in the real world, while emphasising her difficulty in maneuvering round the packed desks in chapter one. There's also quite a few little sections about the accident, like Leslie at the start of the trial being immersed in water. It was also fun to give Terabithia a little fantasy history, like the Dark Master killing that guy with the truck, the one in the movie with the ominous key sounds - all a part of Leslie's desire to construct a 'perfect' narrative to make some sense of the world, giving it some justification.

I realise it's not exactly a happy ending (I did put this under tragedy for a reason), but I promise Clouds will continue in the same vain - although the next chapter is called Doomsday, not exactly promising... hey, maybe I could make Clouds a prequel and end it with Leslie's accident? It fits wonderfully... or not...

Anyway, stories with a twist are always hard to pull off. The plot was perhaps a little over ambitious (the whole Derek thing) but I think the execution was passable. I'll talk more in the epilogue. If you have any questions then feel free.

Thanks for reading


	7. Adventures Old and New

Stopping Destiny

Epilogue

Adventures Old and New

* * *

"You know, I was once almost kicked out of a hotel for sleeping in someone else's bed. Of course I used my masterful control over the English language to make said culprit, 're-assess their value structure'." Leslie wagged a finger at Jess playfully, as you would expect of a lifelong friend.

Except Jess had been asleep for hours, and Leslie wasn't supposed to get out of bed for dinner any more, never mind teasing her friend as the clock passed ten.

"Now hush a moment and listen, this is important." She sat herself down at the edge of the bed, bones creaking a little. She tucked him in.

"Quiet." The word rolled around in her mouth as if reluctant to... She started biting her cheek again, a new habit, giving her face a hollow skeletal feel. Even Leslie Burke could be a coward.

"I know this last while has been hard... and yes, I'm aware about how everyone says and writes about how horrible the world is, the degeneration of morals, the next great big disaster waiting on the horizon, so many problems and so much pain, blah, blah, blah." Leslie gulped, finding something hard to swallow. "So why then... why do I still want to stay?"

Her face bristled with repressed emotion, bottom lip trembling. A cold chill overtook the air, fear and frustration in every sinew as she tried to rouse herself against the oncoming storm. A blizzard wind opposing her, slowing her, even while she leaned forward, arms shielding the harsh onslaught; hair and brow frosting over. She would surely never make it.

"I don't have much time left," she said, although rather than weaken, the confession seemed to embolden her.

"I've had a surprisingly eventful life, to tell you the truth – how old am I again? Eh, fourteen I think, yeah, good number fourteen, I can now legally work in most U.S states. Yikes, guess I got out just in time." She laughed then, biting down so hard her cheek must surely be bleeding.

The room was slowly being draped in a blanket of darkness, shadows and eyes stretching to breaking point as the Sun receded. Leslie allowed herself to nestle in it, to hide and reveal the grimace of pain she'd been holding in all day. A self-effacing 'tsk, tsk' escaped her mouth as she flexed her arm gingerly in a circle, feeling like it had been crafted out of damp wood.

"You know," she said, forcing that grimace into a grin. "Throughout all that life... all that adventure, I've seen, met, experienced... so many... people."

The bluest blue illuminated in the growing darkness. "And yeah, yeah, I know they're male, female, old, young, rich, poor, black, white, yellow whatever – that's situational, but you see, people, they're so similar it's crazy. They have the capacity for good and bad, for unimaginable discovery, for selfish and selfless acts all wrapped into one chaotic, brilliant... m-mess! All you need is an opportunity, someone to help. I believe that, I _have_ to believe it."

She paused, grip on the bed coverings tightening. "For some it never comes, for some it's taken away and others... it ends prematurely."

"But then there's a few people." Her voice deepened, arms shaking. "Just a few, special people that rise above. No matter what, they make a stand, they say what's right when no one else well. Those brilliant, loyal, humble talented people that can overthrow tyrants, push boundaries and even make their own destiny. Crossing all those oceans, mountains... all those people, I'd never met one, not in the flesh, 'till you."

She wanted to continue but she couldn't. In the end, she was drowning. Except there was nothing to swim towards, no chain to break or fleeting hope to cling to.

"Sorry..."

No, she wasn't drowning at all. She was just trying to get air, constantly, but her lungs didn't work right. Her chest felt like fire. Each breath a horrible effort to draw in a little less air than what she needed. Just a little, again and again.

But that pain, it wasn't what was killing her at that very moment. Leslie exhaled loudly, clutching her chest, cursing it under her breath. How... boring.

"I thought... I guess... hoped that, talking to you... I dunno, I could hang on someone." Leslie lowered her head, huffing. "Silly old Leslie Burke, eh? The girl who actually believed in the books she read, believed that fun and adventure would will out. Ha, the girl with no T.V – and no, that is not a euphemism, or at least not a very good one."

An irrepressible laughter overtook her, causing her head to rattle like a rusted cage. Leslie leaned further forward, practically on top of him, pushing an unruly hair out of his eyes after a moments hesitation.

"Just think," she started, a proud smile on her face. "Tomorrow you'll walk up with a happy, boisterous family; you'll get out a pen before long and start drawing away, as you do, the sunshine beaming down, your mind completely and utterly focussed on weaving another miracle. You won't need a silly old pretend queen and her dead dog any more. Nah, you'll be moving on in your life, going to college, getting married..."

She stared intently at his peaceful, sleeping form; her mouth opening and then closing ruefully, some unsaid revelation on her lips. Her shoulders sagged momentarily, she was tiring. She'd been told to conserve her energy by everyone walking on two legs, some on four. Leslie wholeheartedly agreed. She had been conserving her energy. For _this_ moment.

"Bah," Leslie leaned back, shaking her head. "I suppose you're gonna remember me a little. Probably an anecdote to bring up every once and a while. Not bad. I guess that's what everyone becomes eventually, a funny story – some even get made into toys, now that's cool."

Her grin turned contemplative, body sinking. "But I suppose... there is Terabithia."

"Yes." She nodded to herself, something forming in her mind. "When you tell the story of Terabithia. When you immortalise that in paint – make it the best, because it was, you know. Oh, the times we had."

Leslie puffed her chest out, a swagger about her as she spoke, hands illustrating every step fluently one final time. "Ancient and forever; yet still so alive, brimming, practically oozing life, diverse and ambitious. Always running, always fighting against the dying of the light with grace and dignity, meeting the passage of time, even the turn of the universe. Capture it in the moment when you lift that brush, take a moment and then _breath_ it in. A vibrant nexus of the greenest green, the reddest red and the... most... bluest blue... ever, period. With the castle front and centre, grandest of all..."

She sighed wistfully, the pain in her body reminding her that Terabithia was now nothing more than an unattainable dream... for her. Leslie grinned spitefully at the thought.

"Oh, and a word of warning, I kind of... em, borrowed the name Terabithia from the great and grand Mr C.S Lewis, not deliberately I might add. It sort of, well, it was a spur of the moment thing – and he probably nicked it from the Bible, so I'm merely following the well versed tradition. Ha!"

She leaned down to kiss him then, but he moaned something in his sleep and her brief flirt of courage was beaten away, vigour and majesty now resigned to memory... and dreams.

She smiled one final time, although it barely reached her lips. "Bye, bye, Jess."

And then there was darkness.

* * *

"Er, I'm not very good at this," Jess admitted, unsure how he was supposed to actually start this sort of thing. Lord, was he terrible.

He stared at the biggest tree pine tree he could find in Terabithia, it's branches unmoved by the wind. Not that it had really been such an arduous task to spot, the darn thing was literally reaching the stars, shamefully dwarfing everything else in its vicinity with a head spinning mix of arrogance and magnetism.

Jess shivered a little as old golden needles brushed against his leg. The pine forest. So dark it felt like being buried under water. Lord, this place was still able to give him the creeps, even after all these years.

Yet he knew that if Leslie were to pick a place, it would be this one. She'd said it was haunted by Terabithian spirits. A sacred place where such otherworldly things could rest, becoming one with the stillness.

And if there was a tree Leslie would pick... it was _that_ one. He strained his neck a little to scout the trees journeys to the heavens. It was so thick and powerful that instead of sky, there was only a shroud of darkness, promising great wonders to any weary traveler who dared try their luck.

He remembered vividly how she'd immediately fixed her scrutinising gaze on this tree when they'd entered the grove of the pines for the first time. Her stare never wavering for a second, alternatives ruled out instantly. He remembered how she'd climbed it on a whim that day, fearlessly reaching higher and higher even as she'd grappled with delighted giggles. When she'd reached halfway and he could no longer make her out he'd called out to her, the worry in his voice enough to coax her down. Thinking of it now, Jess felt a little ashamed for spoiling it for her.

He took a deep breath. "So, Leslie, I finally figured out what to do about those dogs. Old Barker was pleased, and no surprise May and Joyce get on with them like a house on fire. Although... my parents..."

Jess squirmed a little, his appetite for dinner plummeting. The wind howled, causing him to jump. "Yeah, well, I guess I haven't told them yet." Lord, how on Earth was he supposed to? He had reached the point of scraping around his old piggybank for cash to buy 101 Dalmations to get some pointers on the 'approach'.

After a few awkward minutes spent rambling about menial bits and bobs such as his making apple-pie for the first time yesterday, Jess turned to leave. He felt a little better for spilling his worries out on something that wouldn't make fun of him.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot, I've started a new..." he searched for the right word, "project."

He wasn't sure why the thought had suddenly come to him. It was only a rough sketch after all, nothing more than a starting point in a long journey. He shrugged, it might be the sort of thing Leslie was interested in, couldn't hurt to try. Jess was sure he remembered Leslie talking about such a thing, although it could've been a dream.

He'd been having a lot of them lately, dreams of her travelling the world. It wasn't something he would dare share with anyone else, not even May Belle. Everyone in Lark Creek, whether Jess knew them well or not, had started acting funny whenever Leslie was mentioned, like she'd now become an itch that they had to leave alone and let heal.

He groped around in his holey pockets, finding and presenting a ruffled piece of paper to the large tree, the wind now blowing so furiously he had to grip the paper tightly with both hands to stop it flying off. "Well, I thought it'd be... nice... to draw Terabithia. I'm still not sure what angle it should be from. I think one of the castle would look good, I could put you in as well if you'd like."

'You gotta move on', the voice of some idiot echoed in his mind, fading away too slowly for his liking. He frowned, chest tightening; face now hot and sticky. He smacked his thighs, grabbing onto the tree, boldly pulling his body up without looking for proper footing as he grappled with the branches. A frenzied determination in his gaze as he kept plugging away, grunting with excursion as his palms grated against the bark.

"You're right, Leslie." He stood at the very top, the width and breadth of Lark Creek stretched out beneath him, wind slapping his back as he caught his breath, a wave of contentment shielding him from the cold. "You can fly from here."

He loosened his grip on the top branch, allowing his arms the freedom of swaying to the wind's call. He felt like he could fly right there, even higher than the birds, if he wanted to. The sky was as blue and as loud as he'd ever seen it. Like in that immediate moment after someone turns a light on in the dark, and your sight is so sharp and clear it almost hurts. His nostrils flared, thundering air lifting him like helium.

"What a sight," he said to himself and any of the birds or spirits who cared to listen. He _had_ to draw this. Now.

"Jessie Oliver Aarons, w-what, what is this! Why, why is – dogs. Dozens!" The perfectly synchronised shrieks of his mother and father formed the most diabolical duo he'd yet encountered, sound ringing in his ears as if they were already inches away from smacking him. Jess turned pale as he reluctantly made his way down. The journey much colder and longer now that he was staring at the unforgiving ground only one small slip away.

Jess gulped when his feet touched the ground, blinking surreptitiously to see if his life would really flash before his eyes. "Well... see ya, Leslie. I'll come back same time next week... if I survive. "

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to touch the tree or not, so settled for a meek, half-bow. All the while quaking in his boots at what was awaiting him in the madhouse.

Lord, at least the wind had lightened up a bit.

* * *

Secretary for the women's 'Get Fit' clinic.

Okay, Sarah admitted it. She'd made a mistake. She should've worked harder at school. She should've seen right through Timmy Falton the moment he reared his ugly head. Yeah, that was all well and true. Now could someone please rewind the clock and let her be a 'daft kid' again with everything ahead.

She felt like an ore unsuspectingly stolen by a demonic blacksmith, ground and battered into something she never wanted to be. Ugh, even that didn't cover it, at least they got put to some use.

Everyday was a horrible, soul destroying repeat, like that movie Groundhog Day except she was trapped, literally trapped at this desk in a room that wasn't even lit properly. Her nostrils tightened at the stale aroma emitting from the far corner of the room. The corner that no one else glanced twice at, never mind smelt. The corner that the artificial light would not reach, despite the room being smaller than her bathroom.

She buried her head in the mountain of subscription forms piled on the desk in an attempt to fling it out of her mind. It was January and they were busy again, with an endless line of idiots ready for their yearly 'attempt'. Nothing ever changed.

'What can I do for you,' she'd say tonelessly to the faceless adult footsteps that passed her desk. Wearing the same black and white shorts and t-shirt. Folded socks and smelly shoes thrust upon her at closing time. Degree of pudgy fat clinging to their sides, and the amount of banal false promises secreting from their mouths the only distinguishable features in the dire pool of monotonous humanity.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sarah didn't even bother lifting her head, plastering on a pristine smile as she said effortlessly, "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, straight down to business, ha, I like you. "

Startled, Sarah looked away from the dark corner she'd been glaring a hole through unconsciously. She'd surely misheard the client, repeat and smile politely, that was the way. "Excuse me, what can I do for you?"

Sarah's eyes met the cause of the disruption. She wasn't wearing the uniform and she certainly wasn't faceless.

"Would you like to have fun?" The body the voice belonged to was young and slender, a teenager Sarah guessed. She had a pleasant but normal set of blond hair and blue eyes. It was the way she grinned while resting an elbow on the desk that really had Sarah on edge.

She frowned. One of _those_ idiots. Her hand reached for the phone.

"You could do that," the girl said, still grinning. "But then you'll never find out what's in the corner."

Her hand froze on the phone, back stiffening. What was this idio-

"Something only you can see." The intruder lifted her eyebrows knowingly. "Always in the corner of your eye. Oh, never enough to be certain, no, but more than enough to be absolutely terrified."

"Just get out!" Sarah said, noting that she'd dropped the phone and that her eyes were trapped on the corner once again.

"Come on Sarah, haven't you always wondered; every second of every minute of every day? Haven't you always wished for something more? That little voice in your head saying 'go on', 'get out there', ' live for the moment'."

The intruder seemed to run out of gas, coming to an abrupt end and dramatically turning toward the door. "Or you could, you know, continue living like _this_. Day after day. Alone."

"Wait.. I'll..." Sarah stopped in mid-sentence, shocked that her mouth was open and that she was tugging on this girl's top, body practically clambering over the desk.

"You're trouble," Susie declared impassively as the intruder beamed, feeling like she'd been played well and truly by an expert.

"Pah, step out the front door in the morning and you're already in trouble, just matters if you're on top of it or not." The girl's face lit up like fireworks, hands placed brazenly on her hips. "And a word of advice, I'm on top of the world – always."

Sarah sighed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "... The... corner?"

The intruder nodded. "Wise decision, now let's see what we can't do about it. Richard, Alexis – show time!"

A guy with eerie, clouded eyes and a petite girl looking like she was made of glass seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sarah's mouth gradually dropped lower and lower as they worked seamlessly like a well oiled machine. The new pair setting up a pedestal with a large, wooden bowl nestled on top. They threw in, unperturbed, an assortment of goods that included, to Sarah's incredulity: toothpicks, tic tacs, a piece of string, gum, sawdust, a football, credit cards, ties, shirts, a maths textbook –

"Er, excuse me," Sarah started, feeling dizzy. "What is this for exactly?"

"Sssh, it's started," the mercurial teenage girl said, looking immensely pleased when the pair she appeared to be directing took a step back, the bowl beginning to radiate yellow. The blond haired girl stuck a hand in the glowing bowl, licking her lips like she was taking a lucky dip.

Sarah was decidedly unimpressed with the girl's prize. "You made... an apple, out of – _that_?"

"Want a taste?" the girl asked slyly, outstretching her hand.

Sarah shrugged, her fingers closing around the firm smooth skin as she lifted it to her lips. It made a large crunching sound after a chomp, the assaulting taste instantaneous. She choked. Mouth filled with a bitter, sour flavour that burned the roof of her mouth. This was no apple!

"Ah, sorry," the girl said, taking the 'apple' away and patting Sarah on the back gently. "Not an apple person, I see."

Sarah immediately motioned to strike the girl, but the sheer size of the grin on her face – big enough to force her eyes closed – melted Sarah's anger lamely.

She huffed, arms crossed. The girl seemed satisfied with this, beginning to juggle the apple around as she closed in on the corner.

"You can come out now." The blond haired girl even started knocking politely on the wall, calling to some invisible force that Sarah could not see.

Sarah laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but it was mutilated without warning into a scream; her body recoiling on pure instinct at what she saw. The barely lit corner that she'd stared at for years... it began to move.

The darkness seems to swirl around, cloaking what she had once thought a dull room into a thick, black fog through which no light could penetrate. Her skin crawled as the familiar feeling of fascination whenever she stared at the corner returned with a vengeance.

It was there again, this time accompanied by a vile, scratching sound. Louder and then louder still. She held her breath, subconsciously refusing to have that reviled thing invade her. The darkness did not lift. It sunk like water onto the ground, a dark liquid shaking and thrashing within. She momentarily lost her sight, like a veil had been forced on her.

"Not your best look," Sarah heard the girl quip dryly.

The veil was lifted, but the abomination was not. Goosebumps multiplied. Sarah rubbed them, feeling dirty just being in the vicinity of the thing as the last vestiges of slimy liquid slopped off the shapeless shape.

It was impossible to describe because there wasn't anything there. Yes, Sarah thought, it was a black hole. A black hole that felt, actually felt wrong and alien and sick all in one terrifying moment.

"Ah, the once great Dark Master, capable of striking fear in rock hard stone, reduced to hiding away in a forgotten corner, feeding off unsuspecting young girls. How on Earth was I ever afraid of you?"

"No, I'm not finished. I need more time to regenerate." Sarah felt bile rise in her throat, the voice was flat but the stench it emitted was of rotting flesh and acrid burning. "How did you survive? You're dead, I saw it!"

"Yeah, tell me about it," the girl said, shrugging as she turned her head to wink at Sarah reassuringly. "I was promised cake."

"No," the voice wailed and whined, now tasting of oozing red pus. "Killing you, don't you understand? It was-"

"Well, to be fair," the girl interrupted, wagging a finger, "I seem to remember you 'dying' as well."

"You fool, I cannot die." The darkness widened, a cold draft enticing matter inwards. "But you, your destiny – to separate the two of you, it was supposed to end you."

"It seems he had one last lesson to teach me." The girl's face softened, her juggling of the apple terminated. "Friendship... lovely thing that. Most of the time it's just a quick, convenient partnership that fades away naturally. But on occasion, in that one in a million combination of luck and circumstance, friendship... the bond between two random, silly unspectacular people. It can create something... something that never dies."

The girl leaned forward, voice turning to a whisper. "The one thing you can't kill. That's our destiny."

"No, I will not accept this foolishness. What remains is I am immortal and you are tiny, weak. You will wither and die all in a mere fragment of my time line! " Sarah was sure the darkness sneered at her then, if it were possible. "Ah, and the other dead girl, the one who just sat there, allowing her life to be taken from her, what an unsatisfying meal that was."

Sarah froze, feeling like someone had smacked her in the back of the head with a baseball bat. The blond haired girl was oblivious to Sarah's stricken disposition, eyes fixed on the darkness.

"In completely unrelated matters, would you like an apple?" The girl waved the bitten apple in front of the darkness theatrically, tone high-pitched.

The teenage girl snickered as the black hole cursed her a thousand times over, eyes narrowing into slits as she said, "Guess who's not too fond of potassium."

"Eh, Leslie." The frail girl that had been sitting cautiously on the sidelines raised her hand, shifting her feet shyly as she added, "That's a banana you're thinking of."

The girl blushed, dropping the apple to scratch her head. "Oh, right, I haven't quite thought this through, have I?"

The boy with the peculiar eyes shook his head, tossing said ingredient into the pool of darkness with just a dash of irritation.

Woof! The darkness didn't so much fade as vanish completely like a hasty puff of smoke, leaving the young girl and Sarah blinking in surprise.

The girl's blond hair spun towards the perpetrator, blue eyes glaring. "No, I was supposed to do it! Honestly, what sort of assistant does that? You don't see Watson cutting out Sherlock's tongue and taking the glory for himself, betrayer. How anticlimactic was that – read The Hero's Journey and take some notes on bloody narrative construction. Fool!"

The boy snorted, suggesting to the offended girl that if she were even half-decent she wouldn't need assistants in the first place. The light hearted bickering between them continued for a while yet, the girl wielding a fierce finger that did its best to poke a hole through the bigger boy's chest.

Sarah's eyes refused to leave the corner, head still reeling. "Why did it say that, that horrible thing?"

The bickering pair turned to her with confusion. Sarah rubbed the back of her neck, trying to keep her voice as casual as possible. "W-why did it say I was dead?"

She laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. She wasn't dead, look at her – she scanned her body, flexing her muscles – she was fit and healthy. Perfect, even.

Her eyes meet those of the strange girl who had only moments ago stormed into her life, rocking everything she'd ever known out of sync with reckless abandon. Sarah expect mirth or a lowbrow joke, not _that_, not that.

The teenage girl's face hardened as if she were putting on a full suit of armour. Two blue, sombre orbs meet Sarah reluctantly. The real battle was about to begin.

Sarah felt the room shudder underneath her. She stumbled before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her. She looked up into the face of the boy with the eerie eyes for confirmation. That crazy girl was only joking, this was her idea of a sick joke, it had to be!

He stared back grimly.

"No." She didn't know what to do, limbs moving of their own accord as her body trembled. No, she dismissed it angrily, teeth grating together. She was alive, of course she was. This was her work, she was Sarah Bell. She wasn't dead – how preposterous.

Sarah laughed at it, at the three of them standing there, pretending to be sad. What a joke, she could see right through them. She laughed again right in their faces, a horrible, screeching sound like nails being extracted from wood. She grabbed her throat, demanding that it behave. She was alive. She was fine.

"Sarah, I'm sorry. You weren't meant to find out like this." It was that girl, that stupid girl.

"Shut up!" Sarah demanded, the outburst of anger weakening her, allowing her body to fall to its knees, guttural sobs forcing there way out. No, this wasn't happening to her, they had gotten her confused with someone else. How could someone not know they were dead? It wasn't possible. It just wasn't!

The girl had the audacity to try and speak again, Sarah screamed, drowning out the idiot. She slammed her fists into the floor to stop them shaking, something savage overcoming her when she saw her own blood trickling down her knuckles. That darkness wasn't real. None of this was real. She was Sarah Bell. She was alive. She had a job. She had a future.

Sarah realised the girl was holding her now. She realised that she herself was actually clinging to the younger girl desperately, tears leaking down her face, overcoming the blood.

"How long did I sit there?" Sarah stared at her moist hands, voice uneven. "Wasting my life away. I wasted it. I didn't listen to mum or Mr Davidson. I just sat there and did nothing for all those years, wondering what I'd do one day." She choked on her words; a hot, hard bitterness overtaking her, her body so tense it would surely snap.

"You can't live in the past, Sarah," the girl's insolent little voice said. "There's no future in it."

"Don't just say that!" She pushed the girl away, arms uncoiled and thrashing at air. "It was my life, mine. It was _mine_."

"Yes, you are absolutely right. It is your life. Yours to use and give away as you please. That's why you can't just give up now. You can't give in. Have the courage to live _your_ life."

"Huh?" The turmoil of emotions had softened her to the point where she was stranded, alone and in the dark, staring at the lifeless horizon and hoping... hoping. She lifted her head from the ground, body stilling as she allowed the girl to continue.

"You spent your whole life regretting everything you ever did, wishing for a chance, wishing you were someone else. Never knowing that what was required was for you to stand up. Stand up."

Sarah's feet moved before she'd even consciously registered the request. The girl's voice, it was... odd. The girl didn't shout, not once, not like the teachers at her school when they wanted something. She wasn't patronising or aggressive or manipulative - just calm. The teenage girl nodded at the multitude of emotions playing on Sarah's face, her own expressionless, knowing that it was Sarah who was important here, she was merely a guide.

"As long as you keep wanting, keep fighting, then you're not dead. As long as you exist, you cannot possible die. Sarah, this is important. I want you to close your eyes, and keep your mind wide open."

Sarah closed her eyes uncertainly, about to ask exactly how one 'widened their mind' when the coaxing voice of the girl silenced her. "I could be your friend, if you want, but there's one question you have to ask yourself first: are _you _dead?"

She frowned. All her life she'd bemoaned the fact that no one ever listened, that they didn't 'get' her. And now here was someone extending their hand, after all that time, all that loneliness. How could she ever refuse?

Sarah opened her eyes without instruction, knowing that what she would see from now on would not be bereft of hardships. She might not be as smart as her boss Claire Daniels, or as strong as Ricky from school – but that didn't mean she would be thrown on the scrap heap and forgotten any longer

She was Sarah Bell. And, and she was important too. "What's your name?" she asked to the girl as they shook hands.

She was still a little pale and shaken, but there was something about this bizarre girl who seemed completely adept at turning worlds upside down that was infectious. The teenager with enticing blue eyes clicked her fingers as if satisfied; her arms then waving mysteriously while she tiptoed around. "Ah, a mystery indeed, for I have no name."

The frail girl lifted her hand again, causing a vein on the enigmatic one's forehead to throb. "Eh, Leslie, we already well, we already said your name, sorry."

Leslie sighed, a long, drawn out one filled with pain and exasperation as she squeezed Sarah's arm conspiratorially. "I need new assistants."

All was promised to be revealed to Sarah in due course, the wonders of the universe and her heart's desire now there for her to reach towards. It was not something that could be given or explained. All one needed to know was that it was there. An opportunity. All she could do was step out that miserable door and be the best she could be.

"You are coming?" Leslie added as an afterthought, already excitably ushering the dismantling of the pedestal.

Sarah took one look at her old life. The desk, the plantpot, the door, the idiots – she nodded vigorously, feeling suddenly like her 'life' was heading in one direction: upwards and onwards. She declared Leslie completely and utterly brilliant – and mental, of course – without any hope of ever returning to a normal life either.

"Nah, we both are," Leslie said, a beguiling but distant look in her eye. Sarah cocked her head, unsure who the girl was really referring to.

Leslie ignored this, taking it upon herself to give Sarah a brief run through of Terabithia. Informing her of it's storied history and advising her to always carry a cookie, because you never knew if there was a hungry troll around the corner.

One particular nugget of info woefully skimmed over left Sarah even more astounded. "You have a talking dog!"

"The 'talking dog' has a name, if you would care to use it." A feisty little dog appeared at Sarah's feet, nuzzling away at them irritable with big dark brown eyes that held a dignified, rigid countenance more attune with a batty butler.

"Anyway." Leslie clapped her hands together, ticking things off in her mind as she deliberately stepped over P.T. "Please follow Alexis around for now, she's wanted a new friend to share the kingdom with. Word of warning, she likes her trivia. Just last night she was yapping away about space. Do you know that when we look at the most distant galaxy ever observed, we're looking at an image over ten billion years old?"

Leslie was suddenly intoxicated by the notion as her nostrils flared, releasing a long, shuddering breath while looking towards the ceiling."Just think, when you look at the stars at night, you're witnessing history alive and in motion. Now pause and reverse, what do the stars make of Earth? The dinosaurs roaming about happily, or even its very formation out of stardust? Every atom on Earth was created in the explosion of one ancient dying star, you know. We're made of stardust that learned how to live. Death and life just one big never ending web. Ha, how's that for eco-friendly!"

Leslie wiggled her eyebrows, the tips of her lips titling upwards. "You won't need to stare at corners longingly any longer, I promise. Ha! Oh, and don't worry about the 'other one', Richard. He's a bit odd, but he does cook a mean Crème brûlée – I know, its definitely gone to his head. "

Alexis and Richard both bowed toward Sarah warmly on cue, an act that left Sarah thoroughly embarrassed, nodding to them with a rapidly reddening face. It appeared they'd all forgotten about the noble stead P.T, who muttered in discontentment at the state of affairs, threatening to urinate on their 'leaders' shoes the minute she needed further reminding.

Sarah giggled a little before hesitating. "What about you... Leslie?"

"Me? Nah, I gotta go and keep a few other people's minds wide open. Expand the kingdom. But first things first." She started sprinting on the spot as if standing still would cause her skin to burst into a rash. "Jess said he'd show me the drawing today. Gosh, I can't believe it's almost done. I have to see it!"

Leslie was gone before any of them could even turn their heads, never mind say farewell for now. Nothing, it seemed, drove one faster than the anticipation of the journey home.

* * *

And as the years go by,  
Our friendship will never die  
You're gonna see it's our destiny  
You've got a friend in me  
You've got a friend in me  
Yea You've got a friend in me.

You've Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman

Author's Confessions: Ah, finally its done. I was gonna edit it a little bit more, but now my eyes are genuinely stinging from glaring at the monitor for so long. I've left it up to you in regards to the last section. Wishful thinking, Jess' dream or something more?

I was never going to have a dark, depressing sob fest anyway, because that wouldn't be in line with the source material which illustrates the power of friendship in overcoming hardships. I hope I did some modicum of justice to Leslie's farewell speech at least. It goes without saying that it's a hard type of thing to write, advising someone to 'write what they know' doesn't quite cut it there. Oh, and I can't leave without recommending Toy Story 3, a franchise that bucks the trend and keeps getting better.

Now on to Head in the Clouds!

Thanks for reading

Shamo9


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